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REMAINS 



ALEXANDER COWAN 



CONSISTING OF 



HIS VERSES 



EXTRACTS FROM HIS CORRESPONDENCE 
AND JOURNALS. 



PRINTED FOR THE USE OF HIS RELATIVES 
AND FRIENDS. 



EDINBURGH: THOMAS CONSTABLE 

M.PCCC.XXXIX. 






205449 
'13 



ALEXANDER COWAN 



FATHER OF THE AUTHOR OF THESE REMAINS 



THIS VOLUME 



AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED 



THE COLLATOR, 



PREFACE. 



The completion of this volume has been deferred by 
causes, which it would be needless to state, even if 
they furnished a more satisfactory apology for the 
delay than they do. 

The following pieces are not intended for publi- 
cation, but printed for the use of the relatives and 
friends of the Author, as stated in the Title-page ; 
and in order to furnish them with an interesting re- 
membrance of one who was highly valued in his 
domestic and social circle. Such being the purpose 
for which the volume is destined, it has not been 
deemed necessary to give a full Memoir of the writer, 
the events of his life being still fresh in the minds of 
those who will peruse the following pages. The 
same consideration prevented the insertion of details 
and explanations in regard to allusions contained in 
his writing, which his friends will all readily under- 



VI PBEFACE. 

stand. A general outline of the life has, however, 
been inserted, with a few occasional notices of lead- 
ing dates, for the sake of connection. 

Some difficulty has been experienced in determin- 
ing the true reading of passages in the Poems, there 
being no complete copy of these extant in the 
Author's writing. But their general accuracy may 
be depended upon. 

Edinburgh, 9th November, 1839. 



CONTENTS. 



Preface. 

Infancy and boyhood, 

Lines written on receiving a small amulet, 

Lines written during a solitary walk to Auchtermairnie, 

31st December 1824, 
Lines written for his Sister Elizabeth on her return from 

School, 

Extracts from Letters written during a tour in the Netherland 

The Rhine, 

On the birth of his first Niece, .... 
The Knight of the Biscuit, .... 
Banquet after the German fashion, 
The First of May, from the Latin of Buchanan, 
The Suabian Knight to his son, from the German, 

The First of May, 

Immortality, from the French of M. de Lamartine, 

Lines suggested by a Poem of Rogers, 

An Acrostic, ..... 

From the German of Theodor Kbrner, 

Dirge on the Death of Weber, . 

On the Death of Mr. Henry Wood, 

From the Italian of Vittoria Colonna, 

Life and Death, .... 



Page 



10 

20 
22 
24 
26 
2;; 
29 
32 
34 
41 
42 
43 
15 
46 
48 
4.0 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

Page- 
Fragment, written in 1827, 52 

Sonnetto to J. A. T., . 14th February 53 

The Exile and the Swallow, from M. de Lamartine, . . 54 

The Butterfly, from the saine, 55 

Assignatio Dapis, ........ 56 

Sonnetto from Pietro Bembo, 57 

Letter to Mrs. 58 

Love, 60 

God, from M. de Lamartine, 61 

Preface written in a Lady's Album, . . . . .68 

Lines, .... written 7th October 71 

Hymn, .......... 73 

Letter to his Cousin H. M., . 13th December 74 

St. Mark xvi. 17, 18, 77 

Christmas Tide, 80 

The Gates of Heaven, from Voss's Luise, ... 81 

Letter to Mrs . . . 6th January 1 828, 83 

Letter to H. M., .. . . 4th February 84 

Loch Katrine, . . . . . . . .85 

Lines written in a Volume of Sacred Poetry, ... 93 

The Bride, ib. 

The Old Peasant, 95 

Syr Daizie, a Fragment, . . . . . . .97 

Letter to Miss . . . 9th November 98 

Extract from The Shepherd Boy, 101 

Letter to Miss . . . 24th December 112 

The Lord's Supper, 114 

Crusader's Song, 118 

The Farewell of Milton, -119 

Song, 123 

Elegy at the Grave of a Father, 124 

To a Sister on the Death of another Sister, . . . 126 

The Close of the year, 127 

Lines, from the German of Kleist, 129 



CONT 


ENTS. 


IX. 
Page 


Sic itur in altum, 


1828. 


130 


The Poet's mind, 




131 


Letter to Miss . 


21st April 1829, 


133 


Lines Avritten after a last visit to Keswick before his marriage, 


134 


Letter to H. M., 


1st July 


136 


To Jane, with a book of my own music, 


138 


Letter to Miss . 


18th July 


140 


Remembrance of Childhood, 




142 


Letter to his youngest Brother, 




145 


Lines written in H. M.'s Album of his Verses, 


147 


Extracts from Journal of a Tour 


in France and Italy, 


148 


A Wife's Love, . 




196 


The Shepherd of the Pyrenees, 


216 


Letters, Journals, &c< 






To his Sister M. 


29th September 


231 


To H. M., 


14th November 


ib. 


To his Brother Charles, 


19th December 


233 


To his Father, . 


7th February 1830, 


237 


To the same, 


13 th February 


238 


To H. M, 


28th February 


239 


To his Sister Marjory, 


14th April 


244 


To A. M., ... 


17th April 


245 


Extracts from Journal, 




247 


List of books read 1830, . 




249 


To H. M., ... 


13th July 


253 


To his Sister Marjory, 


27th September 


255 


To his Father, 


10th October 


256 


To his Sister Marjory, 


25th October 


258 


To his Father, . 12th 


and 25th November 


ib. 


To H. M., .... 


28th November 


259 


To his Sister Marjory, 


14th December 


261 


To his Grandmother, 


26th December 


262 


To H. M., .... 


23d January 1831, 


264 



X CONT] 


SNTS. 


Page 


To the %me, . 


12th February 1831, 


264 


Conclusion of the Journal, 




266 


To A. M., ... 


14th April 


269 


To the Same, 


5th May 


270 


To Mrs. B., 


29th May 


272 


To his Sister M., 


19th June 


273 


To his Brother Charles, 


9th July 


274 


To his Brother John, 


14th July 


275 


To his Father, 


16th July 


276 


To the Same, 


29th July 


278 


To his Sister Helen, 


2d August 


281 


To John, . . . . 


6th August 


ib. 


To the Same, 


8 th August 


ib. 


To his Brother Charles, 


24th August 


282 


To Mrs. Cowan, 


September 


283 


To A. M., . . . . 


21st September 


288 


To his Father, 


24 th September 


289 


To Mr. Pitcairn, 


. 17th October ■ 


291 


To his Father, 


. 27th October 


293 


To his Grandmother, 


. 29th October 


ib. 


To his Father, 


. 3d December 


295 


To the Same, . 


8th December 


296 


Inscription on his Tomb, . 




299 



REMAINS. 



Alexander Cowan, son of Alexander Cowan and 
Elizabeth Hall, was bora at Valleyfield, Peni- 
cuik, on 9th November 1804. The rudiments of 
his education were obtained at the Parish School 
of Penicuik, and at the High School of Edinburgh 
under Dr. Carson. He discovered, at an early age, 
those powers of memory and observation, which, 
at a more advanced period of life, developed them- 
selves in the acquirement and retention of extensive 
and varied statistical information, for which he was 
remarkable. 

About the age of thirteen, his father's family 
having gone to reside at Melville Mill, he became 
the pupil of Mr. William Tennant, author of "An- 
ster Fair, -11 and other poems, and now Professor of 
Oriental Languages in the University of St. An- 
drews, — at that time teacher of the Parish School of 



2 REMAINS. 

Lasswade. He had great delight in Mr. Tennant's 
instructions. Their studies were not limited to the 
branches of knowledge ordinarily taught in the 
Parish School, but extended to the languages of the 
East, particularly the Persian. 

To this connection may, with great probability, 
be attributed the developement of that love of 
poetry, and that poetical temperament which (though 
in a silent and unobtrusive manner) marked both 
the literary pursuits and the general character of 
the pupil in after life. The natural bent of his mind 
had, however, already taken this direction. So early 
as in his twelfth year he had ventured to pay court 
to the muses, and, in confidence, revealed his passion 
and the fruits of it, which were carefully hoarded 
in an old desk, to one of his sisters. A specimen 
of these youthful efforts has been preserved. It was 
written in the summer of 1816, and consists of 
thoughts on the approach of evening, — the first 
stanza is as follows :— 

Now eve approaches, mild and sweet, 

Our shadows lengthen in the sun, 
The sheep at eve begin to bleat. 

The labourer's daily task is done. 



REMAINS. 



There are four other stanzas consisting of similar 
simple images; and the production is interesting, 
as it exhibits in the boy the germ of the habit of 
quiet observation and reflection which chiefly charac- 
terized his riper age. 

Alexander, or, to use the name by which he is 
most dearly associated in the affectionate remem- 
brance of most of those who will peruse these pages, 
Sandie, went to Germany along with his elder bro- 
ther, George, in 1819. They were placed at Lline- 
burg, in Hanover, under the charge of Professor 
Dumesnil, with whom they remained till April 1821. 
Their studies embraced the modern languages 
and mathematical science, and Sandie's capacity 
of acquirement in statistical knowledge -was here 
brought into full exercise. There is extant a manu- 
script journal kept by him, containing an account 
of the voyage to Cuxhaven, and journey thence to 
Liineburg. It is not inserted here, as a full speci- 
men of his powers in this department will afterwards 
be presented, written at a time when his faculties 
had attained maturity. He describes himself as " a 
very idle, careless fellow, who have been exported 
to Germany to try if I can gain any steadiness and 



REMAINS. 



application among the plodding Germans." There 
is much, even at this early period, of observation 
and power of delineating both human character and 
the varied and changing scenery of nature, with 
occasional strokes of humour. The description of 
Luneburg is probably coloured in some measure by 
a boy's love of home, and facetious revenge upon the 
scene of labour. — " Luneburg is considered the 
ugliest town in Germany, and the country about it 
is of the same stamp. There are four churches in 
the town, and I do not believe that uglier spires 
could be imagined ; they are very high, however. 
The most remarkable thing relating to Luneburg, 
is the Saline, which was discovered by an old sow. 
This sow went commonly among the salt springs, 
and rolled itself in the dirty water ; the warmth of 
the sun converted this into salt, and the Senate of 
Luneburg have in gratitude given a place above the 
door of the Council House to be filled up by the 
effigy of the old sow." Here is added, but in a 
different hand, probably George's, — " They have 
also the ham made from it, 1000 years old." They 
both, however, always retained a pleasing recollec- 
tion of the time spent at Liineburg, and a grateful 



and warm affection for their preceptor, Monsieur 
Dumesnil. 

The MS. volume containing the journal above 
mentioned, has several pages occupied by " the Esk," 
a poem written at Liineburg, and full, it will readily 
be supposed, of warm recollections of home and 
Scottish story. There is also the following version 
of an epigram, — 

FROM THE FRENCH. 

" Greece, for learned men so famous, 
Praised by pedants in their schools, 

Boasted only seven sages, — 

Judge, I pray, of the number of fools." 



The brothers returned from Germany in April 
1821, and, in Autumn of the same year, Sandie 
was bound apprentice to Messrs. Nairne, writers to 
the signet. His professional avocations did not 
estrange him, however, from his favourite pursuits, 
and the following pieces belong to the period of his 
apprenticeship. 



REMAINS. 



[Mrs. (then Miss ,) sent me a small amulet, a 6d. affair, 

and hinted at a rhyme in return ; here is the 6d. worth, each line a hawhee.] 

(During Winter 1823-24.) 



Thou say'st the odour of thy little gem 

Shall always last and always be the same ; 

And truly, lady, I can credit thee, 

For, could it change, 't were still the same to me. 

Thou say'st this amulet will aye impart 

A joyous feeling to the saddest heart; 

And, lady, well I can believe it true, 

For who could think on thee and sadness too ? 

What though thy gift be neither rich nor rare, 
The Persian sapphire were to me less fair ; 
And, were 't a diamond from Golconda's mine, 
To me its dearest charm would be, — 't was thine ! 



George Cowan died on 8th April 1824, after a 
long illness. This was the first death in the family, 
with the exception of a sister who died in infancy. 
This notice will explain the allusions in several of 
the following poems. 



REMAINS. 



LINES 



Written during a solitary walk to Auchtermairnie, 31st 
December 1824. 

A few short years ago, 

While yet I knew no care, 
I thought all happiness below ; 
Beaut}'' and virtue seemed to strew 

Their radiance every where ; 
I thought not then on joys above, 
I found on Earth enough to love. 

Each year that steals away, 

Steals former gladness too, 
The linnet sings a sadder lay, 
And dimmer shines the sunny ray, 

Than it was wont to do ; 
Since grief and sorrow I have known, 
The dream of youth, alas ! is gone. 

The brother of my heart, — 

Alas, the bitter tear ! — ■ 
Smote by consumption's fatal dart, 
I watched him from this life depart, 

I saw him on his bier • 



REMAINS. 

Released, at length, from every ill, 
Pale as his shroud, stiff, cold, and still. 

A few short years to come, 

When all I love are dead, 
And threatens life to set in gloom, 
I '11 sigh for rest within the tomb, 

Whither each joy is fled ; 
I '11 seek, when ended mortal strife, 
Another world, a better life. 



LINES 

Written for his sister Elizabeth, on her return from School in 
March 1825. 

My early home ! my early home ! 
Again I see the fairy scene, 
Again I see the daisies bloom 
Upon thy lawn of matchless green. 
Still gently flows the river gay, 
Where oft I used to plash and play, 
Between its banks of yellow broom ; 
I love, I love my early home ! 



'Tis still the same ! 'tis still the same ! 
The village church, the wooded hill, 
The red-breast that each morning came 
To sing upon the window sill ; 
The garden decked with many a ilower, 
The airy bridge, the shady bower, 
A thousand things I well could name, 
But is it all then still the same ? 

No, there were some ! no, there were some ! 
Who loved with me our early home ; 
And, shall I ask it, where are they ? 
Go seek them in the cold, cold clay. 
Sweet Susan, like a rosebud thou, 
Ere it could bloom its sweets to show, 
By death's storm broken from its bough, 
And laid, alas ! for ever low. 

My brother too ! my brother too ! 
Of purest mind, and warmest heart, 
I scarce can think the past is true, 
That souls so knit could ever part. 
And I must watch thee day by day, 
So slowly, sadly waste away, 
Till death, in pity, set thee free, 
And left us all to mourn for thee. 



10 REMAINS. 

I will not weep ! I will not weep ! 
I still am blessed in friends I love ; 
And in the grave I too must sleep, 
Before I join my friends above. 
Whatever sorrows may be mine, 
I will not at my lot repine ; 
But till I rest within the tomb, 
I'll love, I'll love my early home ! 



In the spring of the year 1825, symptoms of 
weakness in the chest having begun to appear, Mr. 
Cowan was advised to remove his son, for a time, 
from the labour of business ; and he took him upon 
a tour through the Low Countries, which occupied 
two months. The following notices of their progress 
are selected from Sandie's letters to his eldest sister. 

" Ghent, 10th May 1825. 

" I begin from Saturday the 7th, a transcript from my 
Note Book. 

" Saturday. — Rose at half-past six, and packed our 
portmanteaus ; we then eat an excellent breakfast, and 
hied down to the Ostend Steam Packet. The sail 



REMAINS. 1 1 

down the Thames, with the wind and tide alike favour- 
able, was charming. We flew past the towns and vill- 
ages, eat an excellent dinner near Sheppey, and it was 
not till we had almost lost sight of the coast of England 
that darkness overtook us. Our fellow-passengers con- 
sisted of a great many English, several Flemings, four 
Germans, French, some Scotch, and your humble ser- 
vants ; but among so many nations, you may easily sup- 
pose there was not much frankness to be expected. To 
pass away the evening, as there were no beds, Papa 
and I formed a chess-board, furnished it with sovereigns, 
shillings, pence, &c, and played two games. We were 
often on deck, and about one o'clock of 

Sunday, 8th May, we discovered the lights of Ostend 
through the darkness. The sea was at this time very fine, 
being calm, and under a beautiful moon, the swift course 
of our magic steam-boat, alone dashing the sleeping waves 
from their rest, and they flashing in electric brightness 
round the vessel. The sea was very dark, and our com- 
pany perfectly silent, so that the effect was sublime. We 
entered the harbour about two o'clock, (morning,) and 
landed in the kingdom of the Netherlands, delivered our 
passports, and bent our wearied limbs to the Hotel d'An- 
gleterre, where, after a dose of claret negus, we consigned 
ourselves to the arms of Murphy* till eight o'clock. We 
* ? Morpheus. 



12 REMAINS. 

then had coffee, and Papa, having previously gone out, 
re-entered, surprised with the splendour of the town. 
Ostend is hut small, but is very clean, and contains some 
large houses ; it is regularly fortified, and we saw a good 
deal of the fortifications. We then went to Church, and 
heard part of the service, which was splendid, and about 
1500 people present. The splendour of the Church, the 
numerous figures of our Saviour, the Virgin, and other 
Saints, the magnificent altars and paintings, crosses and 
candlesticks, were very impressive ; but the apparent de- 
votion of the people, the splendid voices of the priests 
and singers, the bursts of the organ, and the effect of 
such a mass of people dropping on their knees, is sublime ; 
and this is but a small Church, and secondary ceremonies 
to those we have since witnessed. We dined at two, at 
our table d'Hote, agreeably enough, and my father did 
his utmost to speak French to a young Flemish lady be- 
side him. The conversation was agreeable enough, also. 
We set sail, or rather horse, on a splendid canal, for 
Bruges, at five, in a nice barge, which, for the fourteen 
miles, only cost us elevenpence each. There were some 
English here, too, and a young French blackguard, who 
told me a doleful story about his being robbed yesterday 
of 2000 franks, to which I, of course, turned an incre- 
dulous ear. The country is wonderfully flat, and near 
the sea a little marshy ; but nearer Bruges it becomes 



REMAINS. 13 

very rich indeed, the Canal being bounded by rows of 
trees, and looking now and then over a great extent of 
country. The women are generally dressed in black 
cloaks, which almost cover the face, and are peculiarly 
appropriate in a Catholic country. The Canal of Bruges 
is about seventeen feet deep, and vessels of 500 tons may 
reach the town. We entered the town, after walking 
from the Canal through a fine avenue, about eight o'clock, 
and were of course too late to see much of it that even- 
ing. What we did see, however, gave us the impression 
that it has been one of the finest cities in Europe, and 
that few surpass it in remains of ancient magnificence. 
Instead of supping at the table d'Hote, we took coffee, 
and went to bed. 

Monday, 9th May. — Rose about six, and had a walk 
about the town, which is absolutely superb, breakfasted, 
and went to the Church at Notre Dame, where we heard 
Mass exquisitely performed. This Church has a spire 
about 400 feet high. We then walked to the Church of 
St. Salvador, from which we had heard a procession was 
to move. Indeed, we had observed in many of the 
streets triumphal arches of linen, and branches of trees, 
with a hundred images of saints, and of Christ, and the 
Virgin and Child,, with copious Flemish notices, and de- 
sires that the inhabitants of Bruges would show them- 
selves worthy of their city. The procession not being 



14 REMAINS, 

forthcoming, we went to the Grand Square, where very 
soon it appeared. In the first place, about a hundred 
little girls dressed in white, with interesting countenances, 
marched slowly in two files, at about thirty feet distance, 
over the flowers which had been strown for them. Then 
the same number of boys followed ; all appeared to be 
reading attentively, and were attended by religieux. 
Then followed the crafts with their flags ; they were four 
in number, and the members of each considerable. Then 
came a number of monks in splendid dresses, and four 
rows of novices, who swung silver censers in the air, dis- 
tributing their perfumes. Last of all came the image of 
the Holy Sepulchre, at which sight the whole immense 
concourse of people dropped on their knees. The sight 
was most imposing. After the procession had passed, 
we edged our way to the Church of Notre Dame, and 
got upon the top of the steeple, whence we saw the 
country thirty miles round, and we saw the lines of the 
procession defile from some of the streets below us. 

We had table d'Hote at one, and opposite my father 
and me sat three of the prettiest English sisters I ever 
saw ; but she near me was so much tainted with the 
bashfulness of her country, that she was inconversible. 
She declined drinking wine with my father, but helped 
herself from our bottle afterwards, thinking it was the 
property of the table ; I half expected that, on discover- 



REMAINS. 1 5 

ino- her mistake, she would be constrained to make an 
apology, but she was much too shy even for this. If 
ever I meet with her again, I will put her in mind of it. 

The holy blood of the Messiah was to be distributed 
in the grand square at five o'clock ; but we did not see 
this, having taken a long walk round the city. We 
found in a beautiful promenade at the porte de Garde, 
the beau monde of Bruges, and although it was the 
evening of a grand festival, we only saw one drunk 
man. The country on the Ghent side is one immense 
garden. 

(Tuesday). We have to-day come from Bruges in 
a charming barque a six chevaux, and dined on board 
exquisitely, changing our plates about twelve times ! 
that is, eating of twelve dishes. Papa wished for you, 
that he might have set you down beside the cook^ 
who was a very gentlemanly like man. The dinner 
consisted of soup, half a dozen different kinds of fish, 
cutlets, chickens, &c, and asparagus and spinach ad- 
mirably dressed ; after this we had puddings and a 
dessert. This is the every day dinner, and such is 
the admirable travelling here, that one may go in one 
day from Ostend to Brussels (76 miles) and have a 
splendid breakfast and dinner, all for the sum of ten 

francs, or 6/8. Tell Dr. this when you see 

him ; and tell him that the canals are charming, and 



16 REMAINS. 

command most extensive views. We were much 
amused while upon deck, by a particular aquatic plant 
(Nymphea), which regularly, as our barge approached, 
dipped under water. We reached Ghent about half-past 
three, and came to this inn, the Hotel des Pays Bas, 
where we are superbly lodged. Our bed-room, in which 
I write, is splendid. We occupy two couches, far finer 
than the King's at Dalkeith. Our room is fourteen 
feet high, eighteen feet long, and sixteen broad. The 
cornice consists of figures of archers en silhouette. The 
room is beautifully papered ; and between our two win- 
dows, which are ten feet high, and look out on the Grand 
Market-place, we have a mirror on a marble chimney- 
piece. The mirror is in a gilded frame, and the walls are 
painted with vines in gold. The glass is five feet high* 
Instead of a fire, we have a beautiful fruit-piece in a 
marble urn ; and the rest of the furniture is very elegant, 
the drawers being; covered with beautiful slabs of marble. 



Haerlem, 20th May, 1 825. 

Now, I will again give you an abstract of our tran- 
sactions since Ghent. 

Wednesday, 11th May, Ghent. — Rose about half-past 



REMAINS. 1/ 

seven, and, after some excellent coffee, took a promen- 
ade through the city, which is superb. Called at a book- 
seller's, who gave us a good deal of information about 
the city ; and also the directions of some collections of 
paintings: one of them, belonging to Mr. Schamp, we 
saw ; Mr. S. has some good things, and is evidently an 
enthusiast. I had studied a long French speech to make 
to him, but found it quite unnecessary, as he was quite 
willing to show us his collection. We afterwards saw 
the Cathedral of St. Bavo, where there are some of the 
oldest paintings known in oil. In the evening we had a 
charming walk round the town, and saw part of the pro- 
cess of bleaching going on. The bleachfields are beauti- 
ful, being surrounded by trees, canals, and country seats. 

Thursday, 1 2th May, Ghent to Antwerp. — Rose about 
half-past four. What say you to that ? Went to Ant- 
werp per Diligence through a very richly cultivated and 
populous country ; passed through two towns, each with 
about 11,000 inhabitants, and after driving through some 
fine avenues of trees, saw the magnificent spire of Ant- 
werp Cathedral before us. The country about Antwerp 
is quite destitute of trees, as it is a fortified city, but the 
ramparts are well clothed. We passed the Scheldt, (here 
broader than the Thames at London,) and set foot in 
this far famed city. 

Friday, 13th May, Antwerp. — To-day we saw all the 

B 



IS REMAINS. 

curiosities of Antwerp, except climbing the spire, which 
is four hundred and sixty-six feet high. We spent two 
hours in a collection of pictures, which is a fine one. Saw 
a monument to an honest blacksmith, who fell in love with 
a painter's daughter, and turned painter, and a first rate 
one, too, for her sake. But you have no idea what connois- 
seurs we have become ; the names of Vaneyck, Vrindt, 
Wouvermans, Berghem, are grown quite familiar to us, 
and we discuss quite fluently their merits. We found 
another Scotchman in Antwerp, of the name of Baillie, 
who is a half-pay officer, and engaged in the silk trade ; 
he managed to dispose of some handkerchiefs to us. 

Saturday, 14th May, Antwerp to Rotterdam. — Rose 
at half-past five ; a steamboat to Rotterdam, and a very 
cold bleak sail. The country seems to struggle for ex- 
istence with the sea. Reached Rotterdam about four ; 
and delivered some of our introductions. 

Sunday and Monday 15th and 16th. — Engaged in 
parading this queer town, and walking about the neigh- 
bourhood. Went to the Scotch Kirk, and heard a good 
sermon from a Reverend Dr. Anderson ; a poor congre- 
gation. Walked also to see an immense steamboat 
building for Batavia, 230 feet long. A call from a young- 
Dutchman, a genteel, pleasant youth; he promised to 
visit us on his first Scotch tour. 

Tuesdav 17th, Hague. — Left Rotterdam about ten, 



REMAINS. 1 9 

and passed through Delft, the high steeple of which we 
climbed ; arrived at the Hague about four, and took a 
walk in the wood, which is a most delightful promenade. 
In the evening we went to the theatre, where we heard 
a Dutch play, of which we understood a little. Our inn 
here was the Seven Churches of Rome. 

Wednesday, 18th. — Walked to Scheveling across the 
mountains to the sea, a fine avenue of trees ; another 
walk in the wood, and then go to Leyden by canal, in 
three hours and a half, for eleven pence each, This is 
a beautiful town. 

Thursday 20th. — Went down to Catteryk to see the 
Rhine fall into the sea. The Rhine at this time does 
not deliver as much water as the Blackburn. Afternoon, 
went to Haerlem, where we now are. 

We have travelled in Holland completely by canals, 
and find it very pleasant indeed. This is the first warm 
day we have had since leaving Antwerp ; and I do not 
think the Dutch are so early as we are. We have seen 
to-day the tulips, one of them worth about £10. It is 
Louis XVI. 

We have learned one thing satisfactorily, viz. that it 
is a very great mistake to suppose one can travel with 
much benefit through Holland without a knowledge of 
Dutch, and we have regretted much our want of it. 
We improve fast, however, among the Mynheers, and 



20 REMAINS. 

like their mightinesses very well. Asa specimen of our 
observation and improvement, I tell yon that we had 
yesterday green pease to dinner, they were unshelled, 
and very young. The pod not begun to swell, and 
from 1^ to 2 inches long. Nothing is taken off but the 
calyx or stalk. Try this dish, boiling them, I think, 
with a little sugar, and put a little butter to them ; it is 
delicious. Try a small quantity, though. 



The travellers returned to Scotland in July, San- 
die's health being perfectly restored. 

The following verses were written in September 
1825, and appeared in Blackwood's Magazine for 
February following. 



THE RHINE. 

The Rhine ! the Rhine ! may on thy flowing river 

The sun for ever shine ; 
And on thy banks may freedom's light fade never — 

Be blessings on the Rhine ! 



REMAINS. 21 

The Rhine ! the Rhine ! my fancy still is straying, 

To dream of Wilhelmine, 
Of auburn locks 'mid balmy breezes playing, 

Be blessings on the Rhine ! 

The German knight his lance hath bravely broken 

By lofty Schreckenstein • 
The German maid her tale of love hath spoken 

Beside the flowing Rhine. 

And shall we fear the threat of foreign foemen, 

Though Europe all combine ? 
The fiery Frank, the Gaul, the haughty Roman, 

Found graves beside the Rhine. 

With patriot zeal the gallant Swiss is fired 

Beside that stream of thine ; 
The dull Batavian on thy banks inspired, 

Shouts Freedom ! and the Rhine ! 

Germania's sons ! fill, fill your foaming glasses 

With Hochheim's sparkling wine, 
And drink, while life, and love, and beauty passes, 

Be blessings on the Rhine ! 



22 REMAINS. 



ON THE BIRTH OF HIS FIRST NIECE, 

There are some feelings in this vale of tears, 

Which recompense an age of suffering ; 
The unthinking innocence of childhood's years, 
The love which parent to her child endears, 

The union hallowed by the marriage ring. 
Yet is there one still more ecstatic bliss, 

One moment of delight most deep, most wild, — 
'Tis when a mother seals her first fond kiss, 

And long, long gazes on her first-born child ! 

Gaze on, gaze on — no flattering dream is this ; 

With untaught prattle shall thy babe ere long 
Call thee " my mother," and, with many a kiss, 

Smile to thy smile, and listen to thy song ; 
While thou, with all a mother's tenderness, 
Shalt watch each little motion of her eye, 

Point out each step on life's deceitful road, 
Teach her young mind with faith to look on high, 

And guide thy child to happiness and God ! 

6th October, 1825. 



REMAINS. 23 

A remarkable characteristic of the author of these 
Remains was a quiet but strong vein of humour, 
which was seldom exhibited in external mirth, but 
manifested itself not the less happily, sometimes in 
practical facetiae, at others, in adopting and sustain- 
ing fanciful or historical characters, in which he had 
considerable power of assuming the appropriate air 
and language. It will readily be understood that 
most of these productions were of an ephemeral and 
occasional character ; and that, of the few which 
are extant, it is not easy to give a complete speci- 
men. There is a letter, " in the oriental style," 
written in 1823 to his future sister-in-law. It is 
ornamented with a flowered border, twined into 
wreaths at the four corners, each of which contains 
an epithet of love ; " Maid of the rosy lips," " Maid 
of the jessamine locks," " Maid of the eye of the 
fawn," &c. It begins, " Do not thy amber locks 
move ? Do not thy heaven-arched eyebrows con- 
tract, thou soul-killer, to see the reed of thy slave ?" 
The vale of Clyde is styled the " Khorassan of 
Shady Woods," Edinburgh, "Shiraz," and two lines 
(probably made for the occasion) are quoted from 
" our sweet Hafiz." 

The following paragraphs are taken from an 



24 REMAINS. 

epistle, written in a similar spirit, shortly after his 
return from Holland, to a family with whom he 
maintained a very delightful intercourse and corre- 
spondence. The title of " Knight of the Biscuit" 
had been conferred upon him in commemoration of 
a happy effort to entertain a party by providing 
every variety of biscuit to be procured in Edin- 
burgh. — 



Righte and true are the tidings ye have heard, most 
witty ladies, of him of y e Biscuit, — certes is he returned 
from foreign travel improved in his outer man, i. e. 
in health and strength ; and, if he be also improved in 
mental accomplishments, it would ill become him to speak 
of the same ; suffice it to say, he hath not forgotten his 
older friends, neither hath he found cause, during his 
journeying in a far country, to love his own land the less. 

But truly,, the valiant knight hath seen much during 
his peregrinations. He hath sighed at the sad battle- 
ments of London Tower and Bridge, where many a head 
of the brave and the noble has been ignominiously dis- 
played — he hath ruminated among the tombs of the good 
and the great in " Westminster's old Abbaye" — he hath 
lamented over the end of the unhappy Charles at White- 
hall — he hath dreamed of the puissant Charles V. at 



REMAINS. 25 

Ghent, of departed greatness at Antwerp and Bruges, of 
patriotism at the Hague and Leyden, and of the decay of 
chivalry in the halls of the Lion's Fort, in the forests of 
Germany ! 

•55- -X- * * * -X- 

Among my other studies while abroad, I have ob- 
tained some insight into the culinary art, and have brought 
home a treatise on that most noble and ancient science, 
by the help of which I have made preparations at Mel- 
ville for the giving a dinner, a Y Allemande on Satur- 
day next, to a select party. You shall hear of the suc- 
cess, bad or good, of this daring experiment, when you 
have again the happiness of meeting 
Your humble knight, 

and obedient servant to command, 

Alex. Cowan. 

Given at my poor dwelling in the 
citie of Edenburg, this thirteenth 
day of the ninth month of ye year 
of grace, m.dccc.xxv. 
Wythe care ande speid. 



The banquet after the German fashion, was con- 
ceived and carried through in that happy spirit of 
humour above alluded to. No dishes appeared upon 



26 REMAINS. 



the table ; these were carved at a side table by ser- 
vants, and handed round. The other arrangements, 
in so far as these were peculiar, will be seen from 
the following 



Rules and Regulations to be observed by all the Guests 
of Master Alex r - Cowan, Junior et Major, on the xxist an- 
niversary of his nativity, y e ninth day of ixber, m.dccc.xxv. 
at Melville Mill, in the house of his father. 

1. The Company will meet in the withdrawing room, 

which they sail leave, after ane short speech of 
Maister Alex., for the dining-room, at five o'clock. 

2. Ilk gentleman sail leid down a lady. 

3. Ane Ticket will he found on every plate, where each 

of the Company is to sit down, and on no account 
sail any person pretend to change this order. 

4. No person sail pretend to ask for anie thing to eit, 

nor sail he or she speak concerning eatables, hut 
drink may be asked for, i. e. water and wine. 

5. No gentleman sail speak to a gentleman, or lady to 

a lady, except by means of the person sitting be- 
tween them ; and no person shall whisper at all. 

6. Each lady sail be answerable that the gentleman 

sitting by her do not drink or eat too much, but 



REMAINS. 27 

there is no controul to be preserved over the la- 
dy's drinking. 

7. Not more than ten persons sail speak at once. Fine, 

a glass of wine. 

8. No person sail refuse to sing when desired so to do. 

Fine, no more wine. 

9. The same pun sail not be made more than four times, 

and, to ensure this, no person sail laugh after the 
third time. 
(This was thought to be a necessary hint to one gentleman.) 

10. No person sail tell any story exceeding the bounds 

of probability, nor sail any persone impose on the 
credulity of the Company. 

1 1 . Every person sail laugh at least once in every five 

minutes, and, if he want a laughing stock, he is 
requested to look at himself; and no person sail 
be permitted to lose his wits or his temper. 

12. Any person who is dissatisfied with the above Regu- 

lations is requested instantly to leave the house. 

Given at our Court, this 7 day of Nov r - 1825. 

Alexander R. 



28 REMAINS. 



THE FIRST OF MAY. 

From the Latin of Buchanan. 

Hail, day to muse on things of earth ! 
Hail, day to muse on things above ! 
Hail, day of gladness, and of mirth, 

And peace and love ! 

Hail, flowers of the returning year, 
Which spring awhile to bud and bloom, 
And seek, when ye have wither'd here, 
The peaceful tomb ! 

When first the sun through darkness broke, 
To view fair Nature's wondrous birth, 
The voice of May it was that woke 

The new-born Earth. 

And thus Heaven's warm and genial air, 
Soft breathing from the ethereal skies, 
Painted each flower that flourish'd fair 
In Paradise. 



29 



And thus, upon the blessed Isles, 
For ever blows the glowing breeze, 
Where never die youth's happy smiles, 
Nor lives disease. 

And thus, through the funereal groves, 
Sighs mournfully the zephyr's breath, 
And soothes the dead, with voice of love, 
Who sleep beneath. 

Perchance, when in the Almighty's fire, 
This orb of earth together rolls, 
This is the breath which shall inspire 

Our deathless souls ! 

While time's short span is fleeting fast, 
And all approaches to the tomb, 
Hail, mirror of blest ages past, 

And life to come ! 
1st January, 1826. 



THE SUABIAN KNIGHT TO HIS SON. 

Son, receive thy father's spear, 
Which my arm forgets to bear ; 
Don these arms, and wear this shield ; 
Rein my steed in battle-field ! 



-30 REMAINS. 

On these few and snow-white hairs, 
Helm hath shone these fifty years, 
Every year, in hloody fight, 
Have I proved my faulchion bright. 

With the sword, the axe, and mace, 
Great Duke Rudolph did me grace, 
Under him for fame I burned, 
And proud Henry's guerdon spurned. 

Severed was Duke Rudolph's right, 
Yet his left hand, in the fight, 
Grasp'd the sword, and dealt the blow 
Of freedom on the haughty foe. 

Poise the spear, the faulchion wield, 
Emp'ror Conrad takes the field ; 
Slightingly they must not speak 
Of me, though mine arm be weak. 

Aye be ready for the fray ; 
Where the battle rages, slay ; 
Spare the weak unarmed foes ; 
Kill the slave that dares oppose. 

Draw thy sword, and ne'er in vain, 
Till thy father's foes be slain. 



REMAINS. 31 



Stoutly watch in darkest night,- 
Be a lightning in the fight. 



's 1 



If thy soldiers wav'ring stand. 
And thy flag hath lost command, 
Thou, my son ! alone must brave 
The countless foes' uplifted glaive ! 

Boy ! I saw thy brothers fall, 
Seven men, true Germans all, 
And thy mother,' from that day, 
Slowly drooped and pined away. 

Boy ! I am alone and grey ; — 
But, be thou less brave than they, — 
Rather would I see again, 
Seven corses on the plain! 

Fear thy God, and fear not death, 
Value not this human breath, 
Never from thy faith depart, — 
Glad shall be thy father's heart ! 

And, if early thou must die, — 
Broken e'en this last dear tie, 
Gladly, then, to thee I '11 come, 
And meet thee in a better home. 

Translated in June. 1826. 



32 REMAINS. 



THE FIRST OF MAY. 

Inserted in Blackwood's Magazine for June 1826. 

The first of May ! The first of May ! 

Right welcome is the sunny ray 

That lights the field, the wood, the lea, 

And wakes the thrush's melody. 

I hear the jocund village train, 

That welcome summer once again, 

And gather, at the early dawn, 

Those pearls which glitter on the lawn ; 

For, charm' d by gentle sprite and fay, 

Is dew upon the first of May ! 

The priest who clomb the Brocken's brow, 

And paid to Bel th' adoring vow, 

To greet with bloody sacrifice, 

The first red blush of summer skies, — 

The heathen priest is passed away, 

But aye returns the first of May ! 

The English youth, the English maid, 
Who deck the May-pole in the glade, 
And trip so jocundly along, 
And wake the echo with their song, 



REMAINS. 33 

And dance upon the village green, 
And homage pay to village Queen, — 
Both youth and maid must pass away, 
But aye returns the first of May ! 

And yet, with each returning year, 
The linnet chants his warbling clear, 
And glitters bright the charm'd May-dew, 
And moans the sorrowful cuckoo, 
Springs from the earth the scented flower, 
All wet with April's pearly shower, — 
Both youth and maid must pass away, 
But aye returns the first of May ! 

All, all must change, — all, all must fade, — 
The blooming May, the blooming maid ; 
The seasons shall forget to roll, 
And melt with heat the frozen pole, — 
All, all must change, — all, all must fade, — 
All, save the never-dying soul ; 
The world itself must pass away, 
Nor dawn another first of May. 

Perchance, when May comes round again, 
'Twill find me on the bed of pain, 
Or all I love be dead and gone, 
And I upon the earth alone. 



34 



REMAINS. 

When buds again the beechen tree, 
Too late, perchance, 't will bud for me, 
And I may sleep upon the bier, 
Too sound the linnet's song to hear, 
Too cold for Summer's sun to cheer, — 
Yes ! I myself may pass away, 
Nor see another first of May. 

Fear not, my soul ! tho' all must fade, 
Tho' friends thou lovedst well be dead, 
Be thou, through God, from sin estranged, 
Thro' Him thou never shalt be changed : 
Those friends to thee shall never die. 
Far, far beyond that azure sky 
Thou 'It live, when burst these bonds of clay, 
In Heav'n, in one eternal May. 



IMMORTALITY. 

The fifth Meditation Poetique of M. de Lamartine. 

The Sun of life fades even from his rise ; 
Upon the languid frame he scarce hath shed 
A few dull rays which faintly light the skies, 
Ere spreads the shade — day darkens — -all is dead. 



REMAINS. 35 

Others at this may tremble and grow pale, 

Shrink from the steep which bounds death's dreary vale, 

Nor dare, without a shudd'ring heart of fear, 

The mournful chanting of the dead to hear, 

Who echo round the couch the struggling; sigh 

Of brother or of friend about to die — 

Nor the far bell, whose sad despairing toll 

Knells the departure of another soul ! — 

I bid thee hail, oh death ! path for the free, 

Far other aspect dost thou wear to me 

Than that in which by error thou art clad ; 

Thine arm doth brandish no destroying blade, 

Nor stern thy brow, nor terrible thine eye, 

Sent by a God to succour misery ; 

Thou com'st to free — not to destroy ! — 'tis thine, 

Blest messenger, to bear a torch divine, 

Which, when these weary eye-lids seek repose, 

Shall the pure light of other realms disclose, 

And near thee, too — Hope, leaning o'er the tomb, 

Reclines on Faith, and shows a better home. — 

Come then, and burst the chains of earthly things, 
Open these prison doors ; — lend me thy wings, 
Why ! why delay — approach, and let me burst 
To that great Being whence I came at first. 



36 REMAINS. 

Why sever'd ? — What am I ? — What must I be ?- 
I die, and know not why this world I see. 
Thou whom I ask in vain, thou unknown guest, 
What sphere was thy abode before my breast ? 
What arm hath bound thee in this narrow cell ? 
What power confines thee in this prison frail ? 
What sympathy unknown, what links refined, 
Connect so firm the body and the mind ? 
What day shall give to thee another birth ? 
For what new palace wilt thou quit this earth ? 
Hast thou forgotten all ? Beyond the tomb 
Shall new forgetfulness be still thy doom ? 
Wilt thou live o'er another life like this ; 
Or, in thy God, thy origin and bliss, 
From galling chains of life for ever freed, 
Taste of the pleasures for the just decreed ? 
Such is my constant hope, beloved Elvire, 
And therefore 'twas, without one thought of fear, 
I watched the brilliant colours of the spring 
From thy fair cheek for ever take their wing : 
And thus though young, yet poisoned to the core, 
Thou'lt see me smiling sleep to wake no more ; 
And at our last adieu my tearful eye 
Shall tell how blest it is near thee to die. 

Thy hope, the Epicurean cries, is vain ; 
And those proud sages who would read the brain, 



REMAINS. 37 

Who dream that science in the skull can show, 

Dull matter think, and duller reason grow. 

Fool, they will say, mistaken in thy pride, 

Around thee look, what lives, and what hath died. 

All, all decays, and all is formed to fade ; 

On yonder lawn the floweret hangs her head — 

In the dark forest, see the cedar tall, 

Bent by the weight of years, split, crash, and fall ; 

The lake hath vanished from that desert vale — 

The skies — the skies themselves — wax faint and pale. 

We know not when that sun began to roll, 

Yet he too hastens to the engulphing goal, 

And in the pathless heavens, despairing men 

Shall seek him, but shall find him not again. 

Look still around, and lo ! where day by day, 

Ages to ages add their kindred clay ; 

And, to rebuke thy pride, the waning earth, 

All things entombs to which she gave a birth. 

And yet, dare weak and wretched man assume, 

That he shall 'scape the universal doom ? 

Saved in the storm, when all hath passed away. 

Shall he alone be left to dream for aye ? 

Others may cavil, sages, at your theme, 
Leave me my error, — love must always dream ; 



38 REMAINS. 

Let feeble reason from the contest fly., 
Reason is naught, but conscience shall reply 
For me, though all these glorious stars should chase 
In wild confusion, through eternal space ; 
Though frozen orb on frozen orb should roll, 
And rend th' ethereal heav'ns from pole to pole ; 
Though this our earth, so beautiful and fair, 
Should float a desert in the sunless air, 
Weeping the fate of proud and godlike man, 
And lost in night where never eye should scan ; 
And though, last witness of that scene, I stood, — 
Around me darkness, death, and solitude, 
Still would I dare to hope ; a thing of dust, 
In the Creator I would ever trust ; 

Sure that an endless dawn must soon appear, 

I'd wait thee on the rent and ruined sphere. 
Often thou know'st in yonder blest abode, 

Where from one glance our love immortal flow'd, 

Now on the summit of the hoary steep, 

Now where the mountain lake dashed wide and deep, 

Guided by God and piety we gazed 

In yonder wilds, delighted and amazed ; 

Where stretching from the Alp upon the plain, 

Dark clouds concealed awhile the rich champaigne. 

Then silently approaching on the night, 

A choir of stars would shine with paler light, 



REMAINS. 39 

Restoring, in a fairer softer hue, 

The landscape which had vanished from the view. 

Thus in the proud Cathedral, when the west 

Beckons the sun to seek his nightly rest, 

The lamp which sheds around the pious ray, 

Fills God's own temple with a holier day. 

Overflowing then with love thou ledd'st mine eye, 
To gaze from sky to earth, from earth to sky : 
Yes, God unseen, thou said'st this is thy fane, 
Nor seeks the mind her Maker here in vain : 
Of thy perfections, which she seeks to know, 
The image and the shadow here below ; 
Thy smile is beauty, and thy glance is day, 
O'er all, the heart and soul their homage pay. 
Eternal, infinite, all-powerful, good, 
("Words to express thy being far too rude,) 
The soul appalled by thy glory's blaze, 
In eloquence of silence offers praise ; 
And yet, Creator ! by thy law sublime, 
The humble soul to thee may dare to climb ; 
And knowing fhat her duty is to love, 
Burn to be near thee in the realms above ! 

Thou said'st, then would our hearts together glow 
Towards that Being whom we sought to know. 
Upon our knees, adoring everywhere, 
The morn, the cv'ning witness of our prayer ; 



40 REMAINS. 

And our delighted eyes would love to roam 
O'er earthy our exile, and on heaven, our home. 

If, in those moments, when the burning mind 
Would gladly burst the chains where 'tis confined, — 
If God, in pity granting our desire, 
Had freed us with one bolt of heavenly fire. 
Soaring aloft, and bounding to their source, 
Worlds would our souls have pierced in their course ; 
And through infinitude, on wings of love, 
Like flaming sunbeams darted far above, 
And trembling, when they came their God before, 
Mingled and dwelt with him for evermore ! 

Am I deceived ? and is this but a dream, — 
Formed for annihilation is my frame ? 
And, following the body's gloomy path, 
Does the soul vanish in the night of death ? 
Is it a thing, which rays of light exhale ? 
Or dies it like a sound upon the gale ? 
After the struggling sigh, the last farewell, 
Doth nothing love thee which once loved so well ? 
For that great secret, I will ask but thee,— 
.See thy bard die, Elvire, and answer me ! 

Written in December 1826. 



41 



LINES 

Suggested by a Poem of Rogers. 

Thou canst not, if thou art not horn again,, 

Into God's kingdom enter — all in vain 

Are virtue, honour,, and integrity, 

And innocence, and truth — thou still must die ! 

Oh, righteous God, what is this second hirth ? 
Who stands before thee 'mong the sons of earth 
Who shall escape thy justice and thy wrath ? 
What arm can save us from the might of death ? 

See'st thou a little worm on yonder leaf? 

Like thee along the beaten track it crawls, 
Dark is the journey, and its life is brief, 

The goal is near — it trembles, and it falls. 
Yet when 'tis born again, a butterfly, 
On wings, by Heaven bestowed, it seeks the sky. 

Auchtermairnie, 1§th August 1826. 



42 REMAINS, 

AN ACROSTIC. 
Written at Kilrenny Manse, 3d September 1826. 

Abode of peace ! to thee the fancy strays, 
Unsatisfied with life's cold heartless glare, 
Conjuring still, in colours bright and fair, 
Hill, field, and wood, the scenes of other days ! 
To thee, to thee, the mind oppressed with care, 
Ever, as to the healing plantain leaf, 
Reverts, and, if I ask a cure for care, 
My wounded spirit fondly whispers, there ! 
And you, kind friends of gay and serious mood, 
In day dreams sad, all smiling I behold, 
Renewing in this heart so chill and cold, 
Noble ambition to be just and good. 
Islet of peace in memory's stormy sea ! 
Ever, till life is o'er, I'll cherish thee ! 



REMAINS. 43 



FROM THE GERMAN OF THEODOR KORNER. 

Father, I call on thee ! 
Hoarsely and loudly the cannons are clashing ! 
Fearfully round me the lightnings are flashing ! 

Leader of battles, I call on thee, — 

Father, do thou guide me ! 

Father, do thou guide me ! 
Guide me to victory, or to the tomb ! 
Lord, I acknowledge thy heavenly doom ! 

Lord, as thou wilt, so guide me, — 

God, I acknowledge thee ! 

God, I acknowledge thee ! 
When in sere autumn the hollow winds rattle, 
When the loud thunder doth rage in the battle ! 

Merciful God, I acknowledge thee, — 

Father, do thou bless me ! 

Father, do thou bless me ! 
Into thy hand my life is commended, 
Thou gavest it birth, and by thee 'twill be ended ! 

Living or dying, bless thou me, — 

Father, I praise thee ! 



44 REMAINS. 

Father, I praise thee ! 
This is no struggle for earthly reward, 
Drawn is the faulchion our holiest to guard ! 

Conquering, dying, I praise thee, — 

Father, dispose of me ! 

Father, dispose of me, 
When the loud thunder of death shall astound me, 
When my blood flows, and dark forms float around me ! 

To thee, oh my God, I commend me ! 

Father, I call on thee ! 

(1826.) 



Korner, killed at the battle of Dannenburg, near Liine- 
burg, in 1813, the first lyric poet of Germany. He served 
in the free corps of Liitzow. His monument is at Wob- 
belin, in the Mecklenburg. 



REMAINS. 45 



A dirge upon the death of Weber is so imperfect 
in the original MS., that only the following lines 
can be given, — 



(Air — Lutzow's Wild March.) 

On his lowly tomb the fairies shall weep, 

His vigils sad never forsaking, 
They shall chant his own strains where the minstrel cloth 

sleep, 
And for ever shall watch his repose so deep, 

A repose which knows not awaking ! 
And their mournful voices shall chant again, 
" No more nearest thou thy loveliest strain ! " 

Yet be sad no more ; let us sing it around, — 
The minstrel true knows no dying, 
And a thousand voices shall ask again, 
Once more the minstrel's loveliest strain. 



46 REMAINS. 

ON THE DEATH OF MR. HENRY WOOD, 

Which happened suddenly on 5th September 1826. 

A father's tale of life is told : 

I hear the sounds of woe, 
The hands which kindly pressed, are cold, 
Those arms shall ne'er again enfold 

Those whom he loved below ! 
And ye are weeping o'er the bier, — 
Your sole relief the gushing tear ! 

Be thou resigned, sad, bursting heart, 

Calm be the eye that weepeth, 
For faith can peace and hope impart, 
No sting hath the destroyer's dart, 

He is not dead, but sleepeth ! 
In glory shall his soul arise 
To seek its God beyond the skies ! 

The heartless world forgets the dead, 

Forgets that they have been, 
But long they live, though life have fled, 
In hearts which once they cherished 

Upon this changeful scene. 
And he will live, till life departs, 
In pleasing memory in your hearts. 



REMAINS. 47 

When night hath spread her shadowy veil. 

And hushed is all beneath, 
His spirit hovers on the gale, 
And pitying listens to the wail 

Of those who weep his death, 
And pleads, with all a father's love, 
Before a Father's throne above. 

The worm, his darkened journey o'er, 

Weaves him a tomb, and dies. 
And lo ! who was so vile before, 
On airy wing aloft shall soar, 

A creature of the skies. 
That worm is man ! when death is given, 
He wings his blessed flight to Heaven. 

He is not dead ! he is not lost ! 

Weep Christians, weep no more : 
Enough on life's wild ocean tost, 
The last rude dashing billow crossed, 

He treads a happier shore, 
Where care, and grief, and sorrow cease, 
And all is God, and joy, and peace. 



48 REMAINS. 



FROM THE ITALIAN OF VITTORIA COLONNA. 

The famished nestling, as he sees and hears 
His mother o'er him flap her covering wings. 
When his much longed for nourishment she brings, 

Loving her well, his little heart he cheers. 

And warm within the nest, relieved from fears, 
Anxious to fly with her, around he flings ; 
And as he thanks her kindness, fondly sings 

A song of love, far, far beyond his years. 

And thus inspired by the cheering rays 
Of that celestial sun which burns above, 

And nourishes with life the drooping soul, 
I take the pen, and guided but by love, 

Glowing and warm, nor under my control, 

The heavenly thoughts I breathe, — I sing his praise. 

Woodhouselees, 16th September 1826. 



REMAINS. 49 



LIFE AND DEATH, 



LIFE. 

Philosophy ! say, what is life ? 
A voyage in a gilded bark, 
Upon a sea of storm and strife. 
Whither ? I know not, all is dark ; 
The ocean may be calm a while, 
And gallantly the bark may ride, 
And sometimes skies appear to smile 
Upon the false and fickle tide : 
But time steals on, the cordage fails, 
The vessel strains before the breeze, 
No port is near, rent all her sails, 
The bark hath vanished from the seas. 

Religion ! tell me what is life ? 
A voyage in a broken skiff, 
Upon a sea with dangers rife, 
Eddy, and tempest, surf, and cliff. 
Yet fear not, Christian, all is safe, 
Though darkness shroud the stormy sky 
Though fierce and hoarsely ocean chafe, 
Thy beacon fire shines bright on high ; 
Though frail thy bark, thou art not lost, 

D 



50 REMAINS. 

Hope, faith, and love, thy course shall guide. 
Watch, Christian ! thou hast gained the coast, 
And vanquished is the raging tide. 

Futurity ! say what is life ? 
A voyage on a sea of bliss ; 
Broken is the destroyer's knife, 
And all is love and happiness. 
A voyage 'tis of endless joy, 
A voyage which shall last for aye, 
Of happiness without alloy, 
Of love which knoweth no decay ; 
And angels hover on the wing, 
Before the throne of God above ; 
And myriads of seraphs sing, 
Eternal praise, eternal love ! 

DEATH. 

Philosophy ! say what is death ? 
An endless, and a dreamless sleep. 
The desolation on the path, 
Where pitiless the tempests sweep : 
The setting of a clouded sun, 
The waning of an April day, 
A darkness which shall ne'er be done, 
A night which ne'er shall pass away ; 



REMAINS. 51 

A flame which burnetii up the scroll. 
Whereon was writ an idle tale 
Of life, and love, and heart, and soul — 
All gone, like music on the gale. 

Religion ! tell me what is death ? 
'Tis life, where God is not adored, 
A tuneless lyre, where mercy's breath 
Awakens no responsive chord. 
Thou floatest on an angry sea, 
And thou art nought, and hope is fled ; 
No star of faith doth shine for thee, 
No sun of love can cheer the dead. 
Still there is mercy, child of earth, 
Oh, turn thee from destruction's path ; 
Though lost, and dead, a second birth 
Will save thee from a second death. 

Futurity ! say what is death ? 

Alas ! it is no place of rest ; 

A desert where God's lightnings scathe, 

And harrow up the guilty breast, 

And conscience proves her rankling dart, 

And nought of calmness hath despair ; 

Eternal torments sear the heart — 

For God and mercy are not there. 



52 REMAINS. 

And terror, and remorse rage on., 
Dire engines of Almighty wrath ; 
And sleep, and rest, are all unknown, 
Mortal ! such is the second death ! 

Melville, 16/A October 1826. 



FRAGMENT 

Written in 1827. 



Life ! Death ! Eternity ! those words of fear, 
Which all unwelcome, jar on pleasure's ear. 
Life ! Death ! Eternity ! say what are these ? 
The tide, the ebb, th' expanse of boundless seas, 
The Christian's theme, the unbeliever's jest, — 
Appalling words that harrow up the breast ! 



From the termination of his apprenticeship in 1826, 
Sandie began to receive, in occasional illnesses, re- 
peated intimations of a tendency to pulmonary com- 
plaints. The effect of these was to withdraw him, 
for the time, from business, and thus, indirectly, on 



REMAINS. 53 

doubt, to cherish that literary predilection, which 
he had formed and maintained. 

In 1 827, he became acquainted with Miss Jane 
Annesley Thompson, his future wife ; and formed 
an engagement with her in the autumn of that year. 
In the summer of the same year, he made two ex- 
cursions to the Highlands ; and in 1828 and 1829, 
he made frequent visits to Keswick, where Miss 
Thompson was residing. These notices, along with 
the others which will occur incidentally, will suffi- 
ciently explain any allusions in the following poems, 
&c. which were composed in the interval between 
the termination of his apprenticeship and his mar- 
riage on 1st September, 1829. 



SONNETTO 

Addressed to J. A. T. on February 14, 1827. 
(St. Valentine's Day.). 

Lady ! I read thy face, and in thine eye 
I see pourtray'd thine innocence of mind ; 

And in thy soft and sunny smile I spy 
Traits of a heart benevolent and kind ! 



54 REMAINS. 

Lady ! I read thy soul, and there I find 

A throne where knowledge sits enshrined on high ; 
Open as day, and playful as the wind, 

And pure, and boundless, as the azure sky ! 
Lady ! I read thy heart, but can I tell 

The filial love, the true benevolence 
Which there with peace and virtue love to dwell, 

And native gaiety, and bright romance ! 
These have I read, and oh ! that I might dare 
To hope my name may e'er be written there. 

Dated Firenze, February 13, 1827. 



THE EXILE AND THE SWALLOW. 

From the French of Alphonse de Lamartine. 

Ah ! fly me not, poor wanderer, 

Come, rest thy weary wings by me ; 

Ah ! fly me not, a friend is here, 
For I'm a wanderer like thee. 

And doubtless from a mother's breast, 
Fate rent thee, poor lone bird, like me ; 

Here at my window build thy nest, 
I am an exile too, like thee. 



REMAINS. 55 

And both have felt life's stormy weather, 

Then fear not to remain with me ; 
And when thou mourn'st we'll mourn together, 

I am unfortunate, like thee. 

20th April, 1827. 



THE BUTTERFLY. 

From the French of de Lamartine. 

Born with the spring, and dying with the rose, 
To float on balmy breeze in azure sky, 
Alight on every painted flower that blows, 
Maddened with life, and light, and being's joy ; 
And when at length it seeks a blest repose 
Far into heaven's ethereal vault to fly — 
Such is the lot of yonder butterfly ! 
And such the human heart or human love, 
Won by a smile, lost by an idle sigh ! 
Unblest, we wander on from toy to toy, 
In vain we would each empty pleasure prove, 
Until we seek true happiness above ! 

UthJunc, 1827. 



56 REMAINS. 



ASSIGNATIO DAP IS. 



I, Alexander Cowan, junior, equestrian, Free Baron 
of Germany, Knight of the Golden Fleece, &c. &c. &c. 
&c. &c. &c, being duly infeft and seized in an invitation 

to dine with the Right Honourable , Archon 

and Ambassador of the Athenians, Leader of the Athen- 
ian Fleet, Meganaos, Secretary for the Pnyx, as also 
known by the name of Aristophanes the younger, Great 
Punster, Essayist, Master of Billiards, &c. &c. &c. &c. &c. 
Envoy Extraordinary from the Thirty Tyrants to the 
Court of London, do hereby, in consideration of an ocean 
of folly, transfer and make over from me to and in favour 
of , Painter to Artaxerxes, Em- 
peror of Persia, and President of the Euterpean Society, 
the said invitation, with parts, pendicles, and pertinents, 
outfield, infield, tofts, crofts, meat, drink, salt, wit, 
pepper, puns, mutton, potatoes, fishings, with liberty to 
cut feal and divot pies, &e. And I consent to the re- 
gistration hereof in the books of Messrs. ■ & 

, W.S., that the said may, at his 

peril, dare refuse to infeft the said Greasyane Painter. 
This 25th day of July, One Thousand Eight Hundred 
and Twenty-seven. 

Done at Hohenzollcrn Sigmaringen, by 
Der Frei Baron, 

A. COWAN. 



REMAINS. 57 



SONNETTO FROM PIETRO BEMBO. 

Composed on the occasion of inviting the Germans into Italy 
during the war. Translated in 1827. 

Fair land of Heaven — in former ages blest — 
Girt round by rugged Alp and peaceful wave ; 
Land of tbe noble once, and good, and brave, 
Where Appenine rears high his ancient crest. 

Ah ! what avails it — that by fate caress'd, 
To thee the Roman Earth's dominion gave ? 
He is thy tyrant now who was thy slave, 
And plants rebellion's dagger in thy breast ! 

Alas ! it is thy son that dares to move 

Thy fiercest foe of old, by thee enslaved, 

Against his mother arm'd to strike her home ! 

Are these the deeds of Italy and Rome ? 

Is this thy fear of God, thy filial love ? 

Ah ! most unworthy age — race most depraved ! 



58 REMAINS. 



TO Mrs. 



Melville, 7th August, 1827. 
My Dear Madam, 

The poems I send to you, will acquire their value 
principally from your friendship for their author. But I 
doubt not you will like those little translations from the 
French and German, partly from their poetical merit — 
as they are closely imitated, and the ideas in the originals 
are beautiful indeed. Upon the whole, if it be true 
that the value of a gift of friendship consists in the spirit 
and motive in which it is offered, I assure you this little 
remembrance of your friend Sanderino is not the least 
valuable of your possessions. 

You may remember that I once took in hand to try to 
versify a little on the device of a seal of yours — " The 
Cross, the Bible, and Eternal Crown." Nothing that I 
ever attempted has puzzled me more than this, and even 
now, I am not sure that I have at all succeeded. I have 
not, in pleasing myself ; for I feel a diffidence in clothing 
any sacred subject in my own earthly words ; and I fear 
to give rise to misconstruction, or to mistake the spirit of 
the holy book itself. Such as it is (if I make up my 
mind to send it to you in its present state), may it some- 
times recall me to your remembrance. 



REMAINS. 59 

Do you not envy me my future intimate knowledge of 
the Italian tongue,* that language of honey and poetry ? 

If I be well enough, we shall, at some future time, 

be most happy to visit you. Miss tells me you 

are to meet her at Kilrenny. Happy would I have 
been to be one. May the three friends who meet there, 
meet with the same hearts and affections they had when 
together on a former period. Alas ! if there be one true 
pleasure on this earth, it is surely that of a disinterested 
friendship, which can look back on past griefs with tran- 
quillity and thankfulness, enjoy present pleasures with 
humility, and look forward to the future with hope and 
patience. 

I suspect I have been very grave in this epistle, but 
you must excuse me. Spare me a ' ' wee minute" to write 
me a long letter before I go. Indeed, I shall write to 
you when our plans are fixed. 

* It was at this time proposed that he should winter in Italy. 



60 REMAINS. 



LOVE. 

Love, love thy friend, the brother of thine heart, 
For friendship can a healing halm impart ; 
And chiefly love those friends of early youth, 
Who whisper words of kindness and of truth, 
Who long have loved thee, and who know thee well, 
And tell thee, what the world will never tell, 
Thy least departure from fair virtue's road ; 
And win thee hack to friendship, and to God ! 

Love, love thy spouse, for who like her will share 
Thy every blessing, and thy every care ! 
When thou by fortune and by friends art blessed, 
Thy spouse will clasp thee to her loving breast ; 
And she, when friends forsake thy wretchedness, 
Will, smiling, greet thee with the same fond kiss ; 
With roses she will strew thy earthly path, 
And whisper comfort in the hour of death, 

Love, love thy God, for who hath giv'n thee birth, 
And friend and spouse, upon this glorious earth ? 
And who, when awful death with dark design 
Hath palled each heart that fondly beat to thine, 



REMAINS. 01 

Will be thy friend ? Ob father great and good ! 
Friend of the friendless ! Spouse of widowhood ! 
Give me that love which knoweth no decay, — 
That love of thee, which language cannot say ; 
So shall I still increase in faith and love, 
And see my Maker face to face above. 

20th August, 1827 -Morning of leaving home with his father 

and sisters for the Highlands on account of his health. Written 
in a book of his sister's. 



GOD. 

From the French of Alphonse de Lamartine. 

Yes ! my soul loves, when freed from galling chains 
Of human miseries and human pains,, 
To leave this prison-house of clay behind, 
And wander in the blessed realms of mind I 
There, spurning under me the world of tears, 
My burning spirit soars to other spheres, 
And my soul, straiten'd in this narrow cell, 
Loves ever in eternal space to dwell. 



62 REMAINS. 

Like to a drop in ocean's ceaseless flood, 

My mind is lost amid infinitude ; 

There, Queen of space, and of eternity, 

She dares to measure Time — Immensity ! 

Give form to chaos, nature's God believe, 

And mysteries ineffable conceive. 

But when I wish to breathe my bosom's fires, 

In feeble efforts every word expires ; 

My glowing soul could speak — my tongue confined, 

Utters vain sounds — the shadow of my mind. 

Two kinds of speech our God hath given us here ; 

One sounds all callous in the human ear : 

This language cold, which knows no heavenly glow, 

Sufficeth for our banishment below, 

And following the laws of age and time, 

Changes, and dies with every varied clime. 

The other speech, eternal and refined, 

Is the unchanging language of the mind ! 

It hath no earthly love that swells around, — 

The heart alone can hear its sacred sound ; 

To speak that tongue the burning soul aspires, 

And kindles at its ever glowing fires ; 

The gushing tear, or struggling sigh reveals 

The language that the soul so deeply feels ; 

'Tis Heaven's own language when we speak by prayer, 

And love alone can breathe its genial air ! 



REMAINS. 63 

In the pure regions where I love to be, 
Enthusiasm still speaks that tongue to me ; 
That is my torch in nature's darkest night, 
And that, when reason sees not, gives me light. 
Come then, be thou my guide ; above, above, 
Let my glad soul arise on wings of love ; 
The shadow of my exile disappears. 
I 'scape from time, from earthly cares and fears, 
I dart, I soar, through realms of boundless space, 
And see the truth before me, face to face ! 
That star which ne'er arose, and ne'er will fade, 
Is God, a spirit, who himself hath made ; 
He is, in him is all, and space and time 
Are of his home, — eternity his age ! 
Day is his glance, the world his wisdom's page ! 
By him the innumerable worlds subsist, 
And life eternal flows on from his breast 
In ceaseless waves, from an exhaustless source, 
And finishes where it began its course. 
Boundless, like him, his works, the sun, the earth, 
Bless, as they rise, the hands which gave them birth ; 
He breathes and peoples all infinitude. 
He saith, 'tis done ! he sees, and it is good ! 
And all to him returns, and from his hand 
Doth all proceed, his will his sole command ; 



64 REMAINS. 

That will almighty knows no feehle hour, 
That will is wisdom, equity, and power ; 
The earth bows humbly to his laws divine, 
And chaos worships at his holy shrine. 
Unchangeable in power, he can bestow 
Intelligence, and love in ceaseless flow, 
He blesseth nature with his gifts of love, 
And feeble men he maketh gods above. 
Gods ! who, the work of his eternal hand, 
At an immeasurable distance stand, 
And still adore the just and holy one, 
God is their end in all ! God is alone ! 

Such is the God revered in every age, 
Whom Abraham served, and whom the Samian sage 
And Socrates announced — whom Plato told, 
The God whom nature's wondrous works unfold, 
Whom justice waits, who to the wretch below 
Sends hope, and whom the Saviour came to shew ! 
No impious image by imposture wrought — 
No stock or stone by superstition taught — 
No Jupiter by bloody Flamens made, 
To whom our ancestors all trembling prayed — 
One and alone, just, good, and still the same, — 
Earth sees his work, and Heaven knows his name. 

Blest who him knows, more blest who him adores ; 
He, while the world her ignorance deplores, 



REMAINS. 65 

Alone, beneath the stars that gem the skies, 
Bids every feeling to its source arise ; 
While filled with love and gratitude's warm glow, 
The aspiring soul burns incense-like below, 
Without the aid of Heaven in vain she tries 
To burst the influence of earthly ties ; 
For would we soar to heaven and heavenly things, 
Tis God that lends the darkened spirit wings. 
Ah ! wherefore lived I not when man at first, 
Ere anger bound his mind, or sin had curst, 
Near him, in innocence, and love, and truth, 
Walked with his Father in eternal youth. 
Ah ! wherefore saw I not blest Eden's sun, 
And knew not man ere sin and death begun. 
Thou spakest with him, all things spake of thee, 
The universe disclosed thy majesty ; 
Nature, by thee most wonderfully framed, 
Her Maker's glorious name aloud proclaimed, 
That name now lost behind the veil of time, 
Blazed on his works in characters sublime. 
And man, when he would praise thy holy name 
Invoked his Father, and his Father came ! 

Long, as a child thou taught'st the son of earth, 
And when thou would'st, thou lov'dst to lead him forth. 
Thy glory thou did'st show him, by the rocks 
Of Sennar's valleys, and of Mamre's oaks, 



G(j REMAINS. 

In Horeb's bush, or on that blessed hill, 
Where thou to Moses did'st make known thy will. 
And Jacob's sons, the chosen of mankind, 
Manna, thy gift, twice twenty years did find. 
In their weak hearts the oracles still blaz'd, 
And miracles their gladden'd eyes amazed ! 
And when they thee forgot, thy angels came, 
And to ungrateful men recalled thy name. 
At length, like to a stream far from its source, 
That pure remembrance alter'd in its course, 
And the dark night of ages spread afar 
Her shadowy wings around the glorious star ; 
No more thou speak'st ; the hand of time consumed 
The name which all thy works at first illumed, — 
Ages of error faith^grew pale to see, 
And man placed doubt between the world and thee. 
Thy glory from this earth, Oh Lord ! hath flown, 
Thy name, thy trace, thy memory unknown ; 
To find them, we must struggle 'gainst the course 
Of time's dark river to its limpid source : 
Thou earth, ye skies ! in vain man looks on yon, 
He has the temple, but no God in view. 
What, though a thousand suns his skill descries, 
Which roll eternal in the boundless skies, 
He sees no more the power that bade them roll, 
And ceaseless wonders cease to touch his soul ; 



REMAINS. 07 

As they have blazed to-morrow they will blaze : 
Who knows when first they shed their glorious rays ? 
Who knows if yonder sun, which burns so fair, 
Once for the first time lightened through the air ? 
Our fathers did not see its earliest ray, 
Eternity had no beginning day ! 
In vain thy providence, upon the mind, 
Reveals thy presence, for the heart is blind. 
In vain the sceptres of the earthly great, 
Vanish from hand to hand, as urged by fate. 
Thee, oh ! our God, our hearts have ceased to fear, 
And even fame forgets to charm us here ! 
The wretched earth, or jubilees, or weeps, 
But palled with wonders, callous mankind sleeps. 
Awaken us, Great God, and change this earth, 
Give to the exhausted world a second birth ; 
'Tis time, arise ! awake from thy repose, 
Let Chaos a new universe disclose. 
The wearied eye must brighter prospects find, 
And other wonders fix the wavering mind ; 
Change, change the order of these boundless skies, 
And let another sun before us rise. 
This earth, unworthy of thy glory, leave ; 
Shew us thyself, and force us to believe. 
Perchance, before that bright and splendid sun 
Have ceased, at length, his blessed course to run, 



68 REMAINS. 

The moral sun of mind shall cease to burn, 
And light no more the soul's expiring urn. 
That day the sun shall cease to give us light, 
That day shall shroud the world in endless night. 
Then thou wilt burst thy useless work of clay, 
And her dark ruins shall for ever say, 
I am, without me nothing can subsist ; 
When man ceased to believe, he ceased to exist. 

Translated in September 1827. 



WRITTEN AT THE BEGINNING OF A LADY S ALBUM. 

PREFACE, 

Which all who intend writing in this book are requested to peruse. 

It has been remarked, or, if it has not, it is a proposition 
which requires no proof, that a Preface is a mere channel 
for Egotism. All Prefaces are either egotistical or puffi- 
cal, either slyly insinuating the great acquirements of the 
Author, or asserting the unequalled merits of the perfor- 
mance. I must, however, stand acquitted of either of 
these besetting sins, as, imprimis, I am not author or 
possessor of this valued volume ; and, secondly, because 
there is not yet one word transcribed on its unsullied page. 



REMAINS. 69 

As I am in the way of making remarks, I may observe 
that an Album is, in general, an unmeaning, frivolous, and 
insipid collection of love sick, or rather love sickening 
verses, childish riddles, and wretched anecdotes and puns ; 
far from containing any thing original, it consists of the 
scum of the reading of the day, and there is generally a 
tiresome sameness throughout, except when some accom- 
plished Miss ! condescends to sketch some " Forget me 
not/' through which the boarding school education peeps 
at every shade. And yet one would expect, from the 
variety of hands which assist in the formation of this ex- 
traordinary work — from the difference of talent, disposition, 
and character, that a corresponding and pleasing variety 
of matter would be found in the pages of an Album ; but 
this is far from being the case, the writers of an Album 
are either afraid of, or above writing any thing original, 
and consequently natural, and, supposing they have a good 
reason for declining this task, they as often want time, or 
information, or taste, or opportunity for selecting some 
piece expressive of their own character and feelings, and 
consonant to the other pieces of the work. 

If it be intended, therefore, that an Album prove amus- 
ing and instructive, let each contributor write naturally ; 
let the grave be grave, and the gay be gay; let the 
melancholy be serious, and the tender melting. When 
morality on one page brandishes her thick goose quill, 



70 REMAINS. 

labouring under the mask of interest, to draw the atten- 
tion of the gay to the truths hid in her lessons — let gaiety 
jot over the next page with her own airy thoughtlessness, 
and let the page of melancholy and sadness, over which 
congenial spirits sigh, be succeeded by the jest. 

To the Ladies. — I have yet a word to add, and it is 
on a subject of no small delicacy I am going to address 
them. The truth is, I have long suspected that an Album 
to them was a sort of Register, not only of handwriting, 
but under its veil, of character and accomplishments ; 
and I have been confirmed in this supposition, by ob- 
serving that these fair ladies are very fond of displaying 
all the qualities which they think it likely gentlemen par- 
ticularly admire. For instance, I have known a lady 
who had never stirred out of town, write (or select) a 
rapturous description of the country, and vice versa ! 
Nay, I have known ladies select characters which plainly 
bear the marks of being capable of a near application ! 
These said Albums are disposed, (accidentally without 
doubt,) so that gentlemen may have many opportunities 
of turning over the leaves, and fitting themselves from 
their contents, as they would with a pair of gloves of the 
best French kid. I am, however, far from disapproving 
of this plan ; I think, indeed, that these Registers are ex- 
ceedingly convenient ; and to render them still more so, 
I would suggest that ladies, after inserting all their de- 



REMAINS. 71 

scriptive advertisements, should add not only their full 
names, but their address, and also their references for 
fortune, character, &c. By this means, an Album would 
really become a most useful and entertaining work ; and 
if we extend the system, gentlemen might occupy the 
left-hand pages, in somewhat of a similar way. Both 
parties taking care to signify the requisites of their choice. 
In France, public Registers of Hymen are common, 
and the Ladies of Britain, who do not possess such ad- 
vantages, are quite excusable if they help themselves by 
advertising in the Scrap-books of their friends. 



LINES 

Written 7th October 1827. 



Suggested by Young's line — 

" One sun by day, by night ten thousand shine." 

Thou moon, ye shining stars, thou azure sky, 
Ye solemn woods, thou gently flowing stream, 
Thou earth, most beautiful, — Oh ! how can man 
Unmoved look on your glory, — and all cold 
To beauty, and to love, pass on his way, 
Nor see in you the hand that gave you birth. 
Yet so it is, oh God ! thy endless works, 



72 REMAINS. 

Thy ceaseless miracles, arouse no more 
One feeling of devotion in the soul 
Of thy fallen creature man ; — each day he sees 
The sun arise, and gild, with hues of heaven, 
The sojourn of his sorrows, — yet that sun 
Shines but for him alone, — each night he sees 
A thousand suns hymning his Maker's praise, 
But hears them not, — for him alone they shine. 
Alas ! blind worm, his temple is around, 
But where the temple's deity ? 

Oh, nature, and oh, heavenly poesy, 
'"Tis ye have made me what I am, 

'Tis ye have taught me what I know, and made me look 
Beyond the earth ; yes, ye are my religion, 
Whispering blest tales of peace, and love, and hope^ 
And kindling songs of praise to nature's God ; 
For when my slumbering mind, a prey to griefs, 
And pris'ner in this narrow cell of clay, 
Darkened, and poisoned by my wicked heart, 
Will not confess thy glories ; then the muse 
Shows thee in every leaf that gilds the bough, 
Or strews the ground in Autumn's yellow reign, 
Searches around with ever sacred toil, 
And clothing every object that I view 
In hues ethereal, soars on wings of fire, 
And leads my every thought to God and love. 



REMAINS. 73 



HYMN. 



" My soul waiteth for the Lord more than they that do watch 
for the morning Psalm CXXX. 

Written Sabbath, 25th November 1827. 

When dark the night, and loud the storm, 
The warder treads the leaguered wall, 
And fancies death in every form 
Beneath the shadow's fall ; 
And hears the wailing shriek of death, 
Borne on the tempest's scorning breath, 
While whistles by the winged ball, 
And hoarsely rolls th' artillery's sound. 
How fearfully he looks around, 
And watches with an anxious eye, 
For the first blush of orient sky. 

While dark the night, and loud the blast, 

The wanderer pursues his way, 

And onward struggles through the waste, 

Without one guiding ray ! 

While laughs the fell hyena o'er his prey. 

While, boding death, the tigers howl, 

And shrieks the solitary owl : 



74 REMAINS. 

Doth not the wanderer distracted say, 
Would it were day ! 

And thus I watch the city of my soul, 

And wander onward through the waste of life, 

And hear the thunder of destruction roll, 

And feel sin's dreadful strife ! 

Dark is my doubtful mind, 

And nought can light the awful gloom, 

And reason she is blind — 

And there the tomb ! 

Faith whispers to my ear — 

Believe, and light eternal shall appear ! 

Yes, blessed Spirit, I will gaze above, 

To watch the coming of a God of love ! 






TO HIS COUSIN H. M. 

13th December 1827. 

When I thought of writing to you about half an hour 
ago, I was for some time in doubt whether I had written 
to you, or you to me, last, and even now I am not quite 
sure. 



REMAINS. 75 

I don't remember a word I wrote, so have great risk of 
making repetitions, which, whatever may be said, original 
thinkers are mnch more apt to do than copyists. The 
original thinker pursues his own train of thought, and 
has, for his life time almost, his favourite philosophy, 
theories, and hobbies ; while the person who takes no 
trouble about thinking for himself at all, and hears merely 
the superficial talk and emptiness of the day, has, at least, 
a constant variety to retail. Now, I rather think I am 
somewhat of an original, or, if an imitator, it is rather a 
time long since gone by, and a philosophy now almost 
unknown, that has charms for me ; the pure philanthropy 
of our excellent Thomson, and the poets called the poets 
of the heart, delight me ; and I have, for the most part, 
lost the relish I once possessed for the wild and terrible. 

Do you know what the new school of poetry is ? Per- 
haps not ; at least, whether you do or no, I shall tell you. 
— Among the followers of the new criticism which has 
originated in Germany, and is making great progress, 
Shakspeare is looked upon as the greatest of all poets ; 
and the romantic, and I might almost say uncultivated, 
as the first of all poetry. Pope, Boileau, and, in short, 
all the rhymers of rule, are stigmatized merely as rhym- 
ers, and not considered poets ; and, in short, it is held, 
that no one can be a poet by any study or talent, unless 
he possess that natural warmth of imagination, and that 



76 BEMAINS. 

glowing perception of the beautiful, which alone inspire 
the language of poetry. — Do you agree with all this ? I 
should fear it is circumscribing the definition too much, 
for none can deny to Gray and Pope the title of poets, 
and, indeed, the kinds of poesy are so numerous and dis- 
tinct, that all poets cannot be said to have the same cha- 
racteristics. Were I permitted to reduce the thing to 
any kind of rule, I should prefer dividing poetry into 
several distinct genera, and then trying the value of each. 

Christian poetry most certainly occupies the highest 
place ; and, where the subject is either purely religious, 
or of a nature in itself sublime, and not in any degree 
inconsistent with religion, the poet has no excuse for not 
being eminently successful. But such poems are very 
few; in English, I think of Thomson's Seasons much, 
but not all of Milton, for much of his poetry is tainted 
with the false taste of heathen mythology. In English 
there are also many exquisite hymns, and detached pieces 
of sacred poetry, — Blair's Grave, the Night Thoughts, 
&c. Of all these, Blair's Grave is perhaps the most 
powerful, but not the most improving, — for the religion 
which speaks by love and charity must always be more 
valuable than that which operates by fear. 

Instead of prosecuting this lecture on poetry, which is 
already long enough, I am going to give you a specimen 
of my OAvn hymn writing, on a sacred subject. You re- 



REMAINS. 77 

member the somewhat remarkable verses in the last 
chapter of St. Mark's Gospel, where our Saviour declared 
that the power of working miracles shall always remain 
with his true disciples. These two verses have been 
sometimes a stumbling block in the way of Christians, 
and they struck me as being peculiarly well adapted for 
a hymn ; — it is well, not only to write a hymn, but to 
satisfy one's own mind in a proper manner of a doubtful 
passage ; and, if mine be not the true interpretation, it is 
not untrue in itself, and is what every follower of Christ 
should believe. 



ST. MARK xvi. 17, li 



" And these signs shall follow them that believe ; in my name 
shall they cast out devils, they shall speak with new tongues. 

" They shall take up serpents, and, if they drink any deadly 
thing, it shall not hurt them, they shall lay hands on the sick, and 
they shall recover." 

They tell us miracles have ceased, 

And faith itself grows cold, 
And demons from the guilty breast 
By feeble man will not be chased, 

As they were wont of old. 



78 REMAINS. 

No more the favoured Christian speak* 

Untaught the stranger's tongue, 
Nor now unhurt the serpent takes, 
Nor from his sleep of death awakes 
The unprepared, the young. 

Believe not thou that love is cold, 

Or Christ no more below ; 
He still doth miracles unfold, 
And faith, which shone so fair of old, 
Doth yet as brightly glow. 

Is it no miracle to chase 

The demons of despair, 
When almost run life's darkened race- 
So tell the soul of happiness 

Beyond this world of care ? 

And still the Christian feels the glow 

Religion bids arise, 
And oh ! what happiness to know, 
And speak with angels here below 

The language of the skies. 

And still unhurt he dares to slay 
Sin's death envenom'd snake, 



REMAINS. 79 

And dash the poison'd cup away. 
And save the thoughtless and the gay, 
Even for his Saviour's sake. 

And still, upon the bed of death, 

The sick he doth restore, 
Not to this earth's polluting breath, 
But to a life of love and faith 

On Heaven s eternal shore. 

Almighty ! be it mine to know 

The wonders of thy love ! 
From thee all joys — all sorrows flow. 
Oh ! take my heart from things below 

To live with thee above ! 

6th December. 

How do you like it ? As M. de la Mennais says, it is 
impossible, or next to impossible, to find any thing new 
in the Holy Scriptures, but it is both possible and profit- 
able to state things already known in new and striking 
lights. And truly, in this view, as Scott observes, " the 
deeper he works the mine, the richer and more abundant 
he finds the ore." Yet it is a pleasing occupation, now 
and then, and a useful one, to spend an hour or two in 
enlarging upon, or admiring, some particular passage of 



80 REMAINS. 

the divine books, and one rises from the task both wiser 
and better ; the only fear is, that vanity should begin to 
whisper, where it is so much out of place. 



CHRISTMAS TIDE. 

December 25, 1827. 

Welcome, ancient Christmas-tide ! 
The time of jest and mirth of yore, 
When none might pass the Baron's door, 
But all partook the gen'rous cheer, 
And hailed the mirthful close of year, — 

Welcome, Christmas-tide ! 

Welcome, blessed Christmas-tide ! 
The time of love and hope hath come, 
For now, beneath the sainted dome, 
The wretched kneels and sheds the tear, 
And hails the sacred close of year ! 

Welcome, Christmas-tide ! 

Welcome, happy Christmas-tide ! 
The time to think, the time to smile, 



REMAINS. 81 

And to forget, some little while, 
All grief of earth and wasting care, 
And, grateful, ev'ry blessing share ! 

Welcome, Christmas-tide ! 



THE GATES OF HEAVEN. 

From Voss's " Luise. 1 ' 

Once came a Christian soul to the portals of Heaven, 
Knocked, and asked admittance ; forth looked the blessed 

St. Peter, 
Softly undoing the eternal gate, and spoke thus, — " Who 

art thou ? " 
The soul proudly answered, while he showed his sins' 

absolution, 
" A christian of Rome, of the faith which alone leadeth 

to mercy." 
" Seat thyself at the gate," said St. Peter, and fastened 

the portal. 
Then came a Christian soul from Berne to the Heavenly 

City, 
Knocked, and asked admittance, — " Who art thou?" 

said St. Peter. 
11 A disciple of Calvin, the faith which alone leadeth to 

mercy." 



32 REMAINS. 

' c Seat thyself at the gate." Next a soul from Augsburgli 
appeared, 

Knocked, and asked admittance, — "Who art thou?" 
asked the apostle. 

" A disciple of Luther, of the faith which alone leads to 
mercy." 

" There at the gate be seated." — Now sat the foes in 
religion, 

Peacefully side by side, and saw in the Heavens, aston- 
ished, 

Sun, moon, and stars, all laid from a chaos of glory, 

In one system united, — they heard harmonious music, 

Sung by innumerable choirs of angels and souls made 
blessed, 

Giving glory to God, — and they breathed the zephyrs of 
Heaven ; 

And, while their hearts overflowed with love's unspeak- 
able fervour, 

Thus their song burst forth, impassioned and glorious, — 
" We worship 

All the same great God." — At once the eternal portals 
Opened, brightly illumined by the golden splendour of 

Heaven. 
Then the apostle stood forth, and, smiling, spake to the 

pilgrims, 
" Now, ye believe in love, come, children, come to your 
lather ! " 



83 



TO MRS. 



Melville, 6th January, 1828. 

Miss was just now saying what a pity it is 

that those who are so dear to each other here by friend- 
ship and affection cannot always continue to live together. 
— If every one were to join his own friends to such a circle, 
I fear it would at last contain almost the whole human 
race. No, it is better as it is, and we ought to be satisfied 
with those friends of friendship — letters, and those most 
delightful moments of life, the few but happy renewals 
of affection and out-pourings of heart, which we expe- 
rience at meeting with our friends after a long absence. 
If those who have prized each other from high and pure 
motives, continue to go onward in the same path, and to 
communicate to each other, although at a distance, their 
doubts, hopes, and hearts, they will never be disappointed 
at meeting with each other again during this life, but will 
be delighted to observe that their souls have been inti- 
mately experiencing the same blessed and happy views. 



84 REMAINS. 



TO H. M. 



ith February, 1828. 

The impressions and education which we derive from 
goodness, benevolence, charity, and virtue, in all its 
ramifications, — and peculiarly from virtue of itself, not 
considered as in opposition to vice, — are far purer 
and more delightful than the contemplation of suc- 
cessful resistance to temptation, because, when we 
know not the depravity of vice, we have, of course, a 
greater confidence in and a greater love of our fellow 
creatures. If we could associate with the virtuous alone, 
we should have less merit in being like them, but, a purer 
happiness in our own minds. — In short, there are some 
characteristics of youth which it is most desirable to 
retain. — Don't you think so ? 

You must have remarked much in our friend Thomson 
quite akin to this reasoning ; he says, you know, that 

" happiness and true philosophy 



Are of the social, still, and smiling kind ;" 

And all his illustrating tales and episodes in the Seasons 
are of the purely virtuous nature ; he does not describe 
vice willingly, even to condemn it, for his own amiable 



REMAINS. 85 

mind told him that the contemplation of virtue was more 
improving. — This is a kind of literature peculiarly suited 
for young people., for although youth requires to be 
warned, yet it is, certainly, better to allure to the path of 
virtue, than to frighten from that of vice. 



The following verses were written in February 
1828. The walk alluded to took place in Septem- 
ber 1827. His companions were Miss Thompson, 
and his cousin H. M. 



LOCH KATRINE. 

Alas for man ! that days, and months, and years, 
Should o'er him pass, and find his spirit changeless. 
Palled by the influence of an earthly world. 
Alas ! that while the body grows in strength, 
And health, and stature, the unthinking mind 
So dark and dimly burns. Poor grovelling worm, 
Call'st thou this happiness ; to hoard up wealth, 
And feed thy perishable clay, and knowest not 
There blazes in thy darkened urn a lamp 
That ne'er shall be extinguished ? See'st thou not 



86 REMAINS. 

The glorious sun each day arise, and mock 

Thy toil of vanity ? The skies, the stars, 

The cold clear moon, the pathless woods, the shades, 

All speak to thee of time, and time to come. 

But thou, the nohlest of thy Maker's works — 

To whom alone one spark of heavenly mind 

Lends its inspiring ray — art cold and dead. 

It is an anxious time, when childhood's years 
Are numbered, and the trembling son of earth 
Looks with awakening eye upon the past, 
And warning conscience whispers awful tales 
Of time mispent, which tells him not of peace ; 
So many years have fled, and left behind 
So much to weep, so little to approve ; 
Then looks he upon time to come, and there 
As little comfort speaks. Oh, what shall be his fate, 
And what is God, and what eternity ? 
Around he looks, and sees his fellow men 
Pass onward to the goal of vanity, 
And fearful, draw a veil o'er all that speaks 
Of death, and life beyond the tomb, — and earth, 
And all her children, seem to say, Beyond 
Our joys and pleasures there is nought ! Do thou, 
If thou seek happiness, procure thee wealth, 
And lord it o'er thy fellows ; court the great, 
To make thee greater still ; enjoy the present, 



REMAINS. 87 

Nor think of time to come ; let luxury 
Be thy slave, — for this thy life was given. 

And shall we blame the child of earth, when such 
The language of the world around, that he 
Should follow in the common path, his conscience 
Lulled to unnatural sleep, from whence unwilling 
Aroused by fear, or guilt, or deep conviction, 
It sometimes starts in ecstasy of pain ? 
Death seizes one, who, busied in the chace 
Of earthly nothings, lately laughed at death ; 
And then we ask ourselves — Where is his soul ? 
But soon again the smile of frigid earth, 
The fear of ridicule, the giddy whirl 
Of fashion silences unwilling conscience, 
Which sounder sleeps than ever. 

What shall awake 
Our other self ? alas ! Ere death shall mark 
Tli' expiring mind for his own prey, and fill 
The frozen heart, seek solitude and God, 
And commune with thyself on holy things ! 

Who knoweth but the busy hum of men, 
The realm of art, the changeful throng of life, 
And ne'er hath looked into his slumbering soul, 
He knoweth not himself. Whom cares absorb, 
The thirst for wealth, or fame, the thousand wants 
Of his vile prison-house of clay, an endless strife 



88 REMAINS. 

For fruits, which, when procured, are nought ; that man 
Knows but the present, and his darkened mind 
Hath never gazed on its own nothingness. 

They whom the world hath frozen, not corrupted, 
Whose hearts are guileless, hut have almost ceased 
To heat with virtue warm, when first they breathe 
The magic air of solitude, and gaze 
On the eternal works of God, afar 
From cares, and from the thousand callous scenes 
Of human toil, sometimes will dare to think 
Of life and death, and, while they gaze around, 
They turn to heaven. A blaze, unknown before, 
Flashes ethereal through the mind, — the heart 
By human feelings touched, half enfranchised, 
Speaks with the God of nature, — the bright eye 
By him inspired, looks humbly up to heaven, 
And the awakened soul, on wings of love, 
Soars forth to meet its Maker in the skies. 

Once, with -two much loved friends, I sallied forth 
To see Loch Katrine sleeping in the desert, 
Fanned by the aspens quivering o'er her waves ; 
Not ours' the minds deadened to nature's speech ; 
'For blessed youth smiled on our glowing hearts, 
And painted all around in gorgeous dyes ; 
And we had read in magic numbers oft, 
And drunk the inspiration of the song 



REMAINS. 89 

Of nature's children ; but we knew not yet 
That noblest measures of the bard divine. 
Raise nor such burning feelings in the mind, 
As nature doth — the great original 
Of all their glorious songs— and now we come, 
With beating hearts, to read in her fair book 
The littleness of man, the might of God ! 

Still was the morn, and clothed in softened light 
The wondrous scene, when linked their arms in mine, 
We left the fairy Loch Achray, and oft 
We turned, amazed, to look upon the crags 
Which build the eternal fastnesses of time, 
And tell the story of six thousand years, 
In nature's eloquent and changeless speech. Awe-struck, 
We wandered onward ; still we gazed, and spoke not ; 
But vainly tried to read the mystic tale, 
Traced in undying characters, on which 
Time, that all else hath changed, no change hath made. 
Our minds amazed, ten thousand thoughts arose, 
Vain, strange, and cheerless, for we knew no more 
Ourselves, or who were by us ; awful yet 
Frowned the rude crags, and yet more strange, 
More terrible the speech of nature grew, 
And closer beat our hearts, and strained our souls, 
The magic words to read : — Why come you here, 
They seemed to say, and why would ye profane, 



00 REMAINS. 

With earthly hearts,, the temple of the Deity ? 
We know you not, — ye are of yesterday, — and we 
Are here since time began. — Though man, 
Ungrateful man, forget his Maker, we 
Will ever praise the Lord ! 

We trembled ! 
Alas ! 'tis dark, and terrible, and strange : 
Oh, for a ray of light to pierce this gloom, 
And still the new-born tumult of our souls ! 
Again we looked, and there Loch Katrine lay, 
Calm, pure, serene, and burst upon our minds 
The glorious truth, and spake a voice from Heaven, 
Oh, children, look around and worship God ! 

Oh God ! all-good, all-glorious, we were blind 
To thee, thy goodness, and thy glory ; we 
Have lived, and known thee not, have tasted often 
Thy bounty, and have praised thee not ; and thou 
Hast spoken to us, and we would not hear. 
Give us, Almighty, hearts of thankfulness ! 
Oh, that the frigid earth, where we have been, 
Should teach us to forget thee ! there nought leads 
The soul to thee, for man hath changed all, 
And man himself is changed ; but here, oh God ! 
As fashioned by thy own Almighty hand, 
The untrodden rocks arise, and sleeps the lake. 
Here breathes the air of paradise, and here 



REMAINS. 91 

The spirits of the righteous seem to dwell, 
Where human passions are not : here they look, 
With love, upon a sinless earth, 
The earnest of a blessed world to come. 

Oh God ! our hearts are changed, and be they changed 
For ever. May the other earth no more 
Have power to taint them with unholy touch ; 
But be they thine for ever ; with these rocks, 
This emblem faint of bright eternity, 
Compare the life of man ; alas ! 'tis nought, 
His heart is nought, his passions are a dream ; 
Ambition, fame, and greatness, wealth, and power, 
How poor, how priceless ! 

And have I too slept ? 
Ye heavens ! with other feelings now mine eyes 
Gaze on your pure ethereal blue ; for soon, 
A few short years, and like these sleeping clouds, 
Which faintly crimsoned float, I too would rest. 
My soul would gladly 'scape the unworthy thrall 
Of earthly clay, to mingle in your air, 
And worship the Eternal God of love, 
In happiness for ever. 

Oh my friends ! 
How dear, how sacred is the name, 'tis now 
That we are friends indeed ; we feel, we live, 
We worship, and we breathe together. Here, 



92 REMAINS. 

In this blessed hour of feeling most intense, 
Give me your hands, and may the all-seeing God 
Grant us his blessing upon earth, to keep 
For ever in our hearts the precious lesson 
We now have learned : to form a sacred tie, 
A sure retreat from earthly cares and griefs, 
Will be our friendship ; where we can restore 
Our wounded minds, and drink anew the bliss 
Of purity and love. 

And thus we thought and felt 
And, now, no dearer friends than these 
The earth hath given me ; ours is love, 
Built on a sure foundation — love to God, 
Which is the love of all his works, and man. 
The earth hath lost all power o'er us ; our souls 
Live in a middle state 'twixt earth and heaven ; 
And, till our earthly bodies fade, we live 
Blest in each other : both these friends 
Are dear, and one most dear indeed, for she 
Is now — my promised bride ! 



REMAINS. 93 



LINES 

Written on a blank page of a Copy of Specimens of Sacred Poetry 
sent to his Cousin H. M'C. 

Blest poetry of Christian faith and love, 
That givest peace to the despairing mind. 
Strength to the feeble, vision to the blind, 
And leadst the mourning soul to joys above ! 

And ye, too, sacred minstrels, who have felt 
So deeply faith and mercy from on high, 
Teach me the faith in God, with which ye knelt ! 
Teach me in peace to live — in peace to die S 

28$ February 1828. 



THE BRIDE. 

Composed in February 1828, and set to Music. 

I love ! No more the joys of earth, 
My weak and wayward mind can move, 



94 REMAINS. 

My heart hath had another birth, 
And learn'd to love. 
Now all is rest 
Within my breast ! 
I love ! 

We love ! but not ourselves alone ; 
We love on earth our dwelling place,, 
And, bless'd at eve, we gaze upon 
Each well known face, 
And Him that gave 
The bliss we have 
We love ! 

I love ! and wilt thou be my bride ? 

And shall we fear life's stormy path ? 

Thou wilt be ever at my side, 
E'en after death : 
To grieve with thee 
Were joy to me ! 
I love ! 

Let Time his ceaseless current roll, 
He ne'er can change our love begun, 
For we have mingled soul to soul, 
Our hearts are one — 
I love ! 



REMAINS, 95 

Oar love is not an earthly love, 
When, gazing on th' Eternal skies, 
Our hearts to meet their God above 

Together rise, 

Free, unconfined ; 

'Tis in the mind 
We love ! 

With thee I '11 smile, with thee I 'U weep, 
With thee I '11 kneel in humble pray'r, 
With thee I '11 take the last long sleep, 

And waken, where ? 

Where sorrows cease, 

Where all is peace 
And love ! 



THE OLD PEASANT, 



By thee, in truth and virtue's path, 

Be life for ever trod, 
And venture not one finger's length 

From off the ways of God ; 



96' REMAINS. 

Thus slialt thou softly wander here 
On earth's short pilgrim path,, 

And gaze without one doubt or fear 
Upon the face of death. 

This makes the plough and reaping hook 

In labour's hand so light ; 
This makes the water of the brook 

Taste as if wine shone bright : 
But he who owns a guilty mind 

By conscience is oppressed., 
And demons stand before, behind, 

And give him never rest. 

Smile not for him Spring's glowing skies, 

Smiles not the fleecy fold, 
On self alone are bent his eyes, 

His sordid mind on gold ; 
The rustling wind, the sighing leaf, 

To him all fearful sound, 
And think not that at last he '11 find 

More peace beneath the ground. 

Therefore, by thee in virtue's strength, 

Be life for ever trod, 
And venture not one finger's length 

From off the ways of God ; 



REMAINS. 97 

Then shall thy children seek thy tomb, 

And pious tears will shed, 
And sweetly there the flowers shall bloom, 

By such pure dew-drops fed. 

Translated from the German of Hbltz, (Der alte Landsmann,) 
during my solitary walk from town to-day. 

till October, 1828. 



■ ,. §>gv$Baiiit y 

A FRAGMENT. 

I moltrs j^jr JBatjte bnztoz ta rzltz ; 
HMfyZYzfaxz £ Motet M hszllz, 
ffax tfjemte fyz flours teaXisz tz\l 
^om %z tozg Mzggit iiiiszils, 
e&ttfjen my Mxz Utyz Igfi^tlg jp^actt fvyr foote, 
Sl-jjatfigrgnfl flours upon i)ig leafg roots. 

J^pr Bat&? tnzg tfjott notte motft SleMt, 
<&uzn sdjo mogt fajjre to 8zz, 
3hi f)gr cruijgt Ijantf tTjg ^talitj)^ pmfgtt 
Co tafte a flours from tfje. 

®f) goffer me, jie Isuetf of tjrene 

^at £ mage pttt mij fote quljsre i)ijr<$ fcatl) hznz. 

March, 1828. 



yS REMAINS. 



TO MISS 



Moray House, 9lh November, 1828. 
I am delighted with your observations on my verses, I 
would far rather that they pleased the true Christian than 
the connoisseur., — I would far rather tune my little harp 
to the music of David and of the Bible, than to the ter- 
rible but irreligious harmonies of the greatest profane 
writers. Should any talent of song have been bestowed 
on me, it shall be my endeavour to make the strains of 
my lyre an echo to the soul that breathes them., and the 
soul, as far as possible, an echo of the spirit of Christianity 
and virtue. My idea of a true poet is superior to any 
thing the world has ever seen or will see ; it is like one 
of those abstract ideas of virtue and love only pourtrayed 
in Deity ; but it is possible to conceive, at least, a poet, 
who, having a part and portion in the Atonement, is so 
filled with a heavenly spirit, that his voice is, in a man- 
ner, the voice of the Spirit of God which dwells in him ; 
and, certainly, it admits of truth to consider that where 
God hath given the glorious gift of song to a heart alive 
to him, that gift, being by God's permission, is a part of 
his eternal mind, publishing his mysteries and his per- 
fections unto mankind. I know not if you will quite 
understand my meaning, but I shall probably make it 



REMAINS. 99 

plainer to you, ere long, by some verses which I have 
begun, and which are dedicated to that great subject. 
I have been struck with a confirmation of this idea by a 
passage of the fifty -first Psalm, verse 6 : — l< Behold thou 
desirest truth in the inward parts, and in the hidden part 
thou shalt make me to know wisdom ; " and afterwards, 
when the Psalmist has prayed for a clean heart, and for 
forgiveness of all iniquities, he says, " Restore unto me 
the joy of thy salvation, and uphold me with thy free 
spirit. — Then will I teach transgressors thy ways, and 
sinners shall be converted unto thee. — Deliver me from 
blood guiltiness, God, thou God of my salvation, and 
my tongue shall sing aloud of thy righteousness." 

How true is your remark, that death, although of 
every day occurrence, is often reconciled to our minds, 
or, at least, accustomed by habit. — One of these shocks, 
our cold reason allows, ought to be sufficient to change 
for ever all the lukewarmness and even wickedness of 
our minds to love and virtue ; but how soon does not 
the impression fade ! — We are forced, as it were, to con- 
fess, that this fleeting world, with its joys and sorrows, 
is as nothing, that it is scarce a moment, that it is only 
the culture of our hearts and the gradual habituation of 
the soul for its future abode that deserve attention, but, 
alas ! how soon do we not again turn to the things of 
this life, struggling forward with unwearied energy and 



100 BEMiUNS. 

perseverance, to gain the honour and consideration of a 
day, which this world gives. — Sometimes I grow almost 
sick of the scenes necessarily attendant on my professional 
life, where almost all is worldly, and, I think, what a 
blessed lot were mine, like the Royal Psalmist, to he 
honoured with the means of doing good to the souls in- 
stead of the bodies of others, but I should not think that 
this is not in my power, for certainly the opportunity of 
winning souls to God is never wanting when the desire 
to do so exists : the first step would, assuredly, be to 
possess a clean heart, to have my iniquities blotted out, 
and to be restored to the joy of His salvation ; then, in 
all Christian humility and lowliness, would I teach trans- 
gressors thy ways and sing aloud of thy righteousness ! 

The little book I talked of sending will probably reach 
you in about a week hence. 



The little book above alluded to, was a transla- 
tion of a Dramatic Idyl by Oehlensehlager, entitled 
The Shepherd Boy, which was published in 1828. 
This pastoral poem, which is extremely simple in 
its execution, is founded upon the supposed preser- 
vation from decay, of the corpse of a child, in a 
glacier, which being found in a search for the Shep- 



REMAINS. 101 

herd Boy, who has wandered, is mistaken for his 
body. The manner in which the circumstance is 
managed, so as to communicate an interest to the 
narrative, will be seen from the passages quoted 
below. The preparation of this work was an em- 
ployment of great interest and delight to the trans- 
lator. 

We quote first the announcement by Angustin 
(a hermit) to V/erner, the shepherd, of the sup- 
posed death of his boy Fritz : — 

augustin {walks in with deep seriousness, dignity, and 

feeling. He makes the sign of the cross.) 
Praised be Jesus Christ ! 

WERNER. 

Eternally. 

\_Gives him his hand. 
How art thou, father ? Thou art paler than 
Is usual, and thou tremblest ! 

AUGUSTIN. 

It is age — 
For I am near the grave. But 'tis not fear. — 
Werner, I fear not death — I love hirn much. 
'Tis but my soul, which tremblingly shakes off 
The dust of earth from her immortal wings. 



102 REMAINS. 

WERNER. 

Think not so often of thy death, oh father. 

Death will come soon enough ; true, thou art old ; 

But winter blooms beneath thy locks of snow. 

AUGUSTIN. 

Think seriously, steward. — Look beneath, 

With eyes attentive, on the holy deep ; 

Roots strike below, and weeds are on the surface : 

Accustom thou thyself to see in darkness 

Light ; look thou in the cave till thou discover 

The shining portal of eternal life. 

For birth is but the door of vanities ; 

There dost thou err in vain, thy passions' slave — 

The key of life is faith — the gate the grave. 

WERNER. 

I am not godless. 

AUGUSTIN. 

No, I say not that ; 
Thou rt good, but yet I fear too worldly, Werner, 
And lovest far too much this passing life. 

WERNER. 

My God hath made me happy. Should 1 be 
A Christian, were I not to thank him for it ? 

AUGUSTIN. 

The joys, which sometimes here our God allows, 
Are only trials, meant to win the heart 



REMAINS. 103 

By slow degrees to prudence and to patience. 

If I should wish to be in Heaven, when grief 

Bows my sad spirit down, that is no virtue — 

Who doth not wish himself estranged from sorrows ? 

But first to taste of happiness like Job, 

And then with patience to submit to fate ; 

To lose the dearest and the costliest, 

And then to say, while tears stream from the eyes — 

et God gave, and takes away — his name be praised ;" — ■ 

That, Werner is a Christian's part. 

werner (takes Ms hand with frankness.} 
But tell me 
Openly, friend ; — I too would speak a little 
In thy own figures ; — is it good in thee 
Foretelling sorrow like the midnight owl ? 
And asking, when thou see'st a cheerful flower, 
" Why dost thou smell so sweet, and lift thy stem 
So tall and proudly in the air of Heaven ? 
Soon thou shalt fade away and turn to dust." 
Say, Augustin, is this a Christian's part ? 

AUGUST1N. 

Oh hear me, friend, nor thus misunderstand me ; 

Did all thy happiness rest on thy God, 

And if thy house were founded on a rock, 

If thou wouldst quench thy thirst for joys of earth 

In the true spring of life Eternal — then 



104 BEMAINS. 

How gladly would I share thy happiness f 
But when the false appearance of a moment, 
Where danger and destruction ever lurk, 
Darkens thine earthly eyes, can I rejoice ? 

WERNER. 

Well, let it rest, — Thou visit'st us to-day ; 

We thank thee, and we prize thy friendship much : 

What though our views of life be different, 

'Tis natural ; the winter oft is cold ; 

The summer day is sometimes far too sultry. 

Come, strengthen thou thyself in my warm sunshine, 

Thy cold and holy moonlight shall inspire me ; 

Thus we shall yield a little to each other — 

In such exchanges friendship doth consist. 

augustin {gives the people a sign ; they bring in the 

basket and depart.) 
Now, thou dost feel and use thy happiness 
Like to a man of strength ; but, Werner, couldst thou 
Bear sorrow with the self- same equal courage? 

WERNER. 

Ay ! time and care. 

AUGUSTIN. 

Just as the bubble melts, 
In air, so passeth happiness away. 
How if the time were come ? 



REMAINS. 105 

WERNER. 

Most pious father, 
Wliat bringest thou ? A basket of fair fruit ? 
We thank thee ! 

AUGUSTIN. 

Yes, 'tis fill'd with fairest fruit. 
An hour ago it grew upon its stem 
In innocence ; and now 'tis pluck'd for ever, 
And the pale body like an angel smiles. 

WERNER. 

Methinks it is a dismal view of life, 

When e'en an apple seems to thee a corpse. 

AUGUSTIN. 

What is it then ? Is it not broken too 
From off the mother branch ? 

WERNER. 

Yes, to fulfil 
The end of nature. 

AUGUSTIN. 

And is not the heart, 
When it grows stiff, like to a simple fruit 
When pluck'd — not to delight the mortal sense 
With its own sweetness — but itself to taste 
The everlasting happiness of heaven ? 

WERNER. 

Yes, this is striking and poetical ! 



106 REMAINS. 

augustin (with increasing expression.) 
And is the child, the fairest of all flowers. 
When suddenly it leaves its parent stem, 
Not to he liken'd to such nohle fruit, 
Just torn away, to sow in Paradise 
Its spotless kernel, where no worm shall gnaw 
Its bloom for ever ? 

werner (in sudden anxiety). 

God ! what dost thou mean 
By these similitudes ? Thou frighten'st me. 

AUGUSTIN. 

Much to be pitied father ! — Who can comfort 

Thee, who, of earthly happiness secure, dream'st not 

Of care ? It comes a sudden thunderbolt. 

How shall I comfort thee ? Thou lovest only 

This earthly life, without desire of heaven ! 

werner (rushes forward, opens the basket, and exclaims 

in wild sorrow,) 
Oh God ! my Fritz !- — Dead ! pale — and bruis'd — and 
— cold. 

augustin (with deep commiseration,,) 
Madden, poor heart — ay, quit thee of thy wound ; 
Beat thick, and, Nature, hold thy own. Moan forth 
Wild lamentations from his lips. Give air 
To his pent breast, that so despair may not 
Strangle him dumbly. Flow, ye bitter tears^ 



REMAINS. 107 

Flow and dry up your salt and burning springs. 
Weep, father, weep, because thy child is dead ! 
But Grief ! when thou hast done thy uttermost, 
Despair ! when thou hast raged out thy worst — 
Oh ! come then Comfort from the grace of God, 
Appearing like the moon in mourning clouds : 
Oh ! dissipate the darkness with thy silver, 
And let the father see his Fritz again, 
Alive and bless'd among the choir of angels. 

webner {faintly?) 
My child ! my son ! my Fritz ! my only one ! 



{He sees the Boy's clothes and hat on the wall, 
and wrings his hands.) 

Oh, God, oh, God ! there hang 
His clothes upon the wall— The Sabbath hat, 
And Sabbath jacket. Oh, my child ! thou need'st 
These clothes no more. An angel art thou now 
Of glorious light ! Pure lilies crown thy head, 
And thou hast left to me alone on earth 
These precious relics. \_He kisses the clothes, 

augustin {warning him, with an air of disapprobation.) 

Too unhappy father, 
Beware, sin not ! 



108 REMAINS. 

werner {with dignity.) 

Peace, monk ; thou knowest not 
A father's heart. Dost thou within thy cell, 
Beside thy death's-head and thy crucifix, 
Faint in thy solitude of silent mourning, 
Know what is life ? or canst thou prize the gifts 
Thou knowest not, and thank God for these gifts ? 
Thou only look'st upon the cross of death, 
And think'st of tombs and sin. When tempted, thon 
Kneel'st only in Gethsemane, and bleed'st 
On Golgotha. Thy life is still the same, 
A mournful and a dreadful time of Lent. 

{With inspiration.) 
Where children are, oh ! there is ever Christmas ! 
There innocence for ever blooms anew ; 
The mother sits, the loved one in her bosom ; 
The star of peace shines on the cottage roof; 
And angels sing upon the fields, aloud 
To shepherds, glad hosannahs of the sky. 
The father, too, becomes a child again, 
And 'tis as children that we see our God. 

{He falls beside the corpse.) 

We quote also the scene of the restoration ; Char- 
lotte (the mother) is speaking. 



REMAINS. 109 

Ah ! wherefore, wherefore 
Are there no miracles in modern times ? 
They were so beautiful, so comforting, 
And strengthen'd faith, and love, and providence, 
Life with its sorrows needeth cheering much, 
For grief depresses, joy too much exalts, 
And that which one torments may fall on many. 

(To Augustin.) 
Dost thou remember, pious man, that we 
Last Sunday were in church, with little Fritz ? 
And there thou read'st the bless'd Evangelist, 
The story of the Widow's Son of Nam; 
Then kindly didst thou show how good was God, 
And from the mother's sad despairing heart 
How happiness arose. Oh ! it were bliss, 
If-such a miracle could happen now ! 

AUGUSTIN 

Alas ! unhappy Charlotte, they have ceased. 

CHARLOTTE. 

No ! they have not yet ceas'd — they happen still. 

A miracle is every gift of God. 

Was it no miracle that Fritz was mine ? 

And, when a child grows sick, and raves in fever, 

And silently the surgeon shrugs his shoulders, 

The father trembles, and the mother weeps, 

Is it no miracle, when hope is none, 



110 REMAINS, 

If God should bring salvation, and restore 
Him to his parents ? 

WERNER. 

There he will be ours. 

CHARLOTTE, 

Once was my Fritzli sick ; we trembled all ; 
With cheeks of fever, and with dull dim eyes, 
He drew his heavy breath within my arms. 
With bitter tears I moistened his mouth 
So hot and fiery, 

\Wiih increased feeling. 
He recovered ! God 
Granted him to my prayers. And what he once 
Hath done, that can he often do ! 

AUGUSTIN. 

woman, 
Thou ravest ; but I see thy ardent faith, 
And, like the ancient tower on yonder rock, 
Thy wand'ring mind is noble in its ruins. 

CHARLOTTE. 

My grief is far too young ; I cannot yet 
Give myself to despair. I almost think 
My pain is nothing but an envious dream. 
I saw him in his health so fresh and blooming, 
Only an hour ago ; — and now, he lies 
Cold, pale, and lifeless, on his funeral bier. 



REMAINS. Ill 

I think I see the humble cottage door 

Ope gently for the coming of our Saviour; 

I think I see him come with blessed steps, 

To lay his hand upon the dead, and say, 

With voice of heav'nly comfort, " Weep not, woman ! 

Thy son is not yet dead ! " 

{At this moment the door opens — Fritz, with Reinald, 
Babli, the old Grandfather, and several Shepherds 
and Shepherdesses, run in — he has a nosegay in his 
hand, and flies into his mother s arms.) 

FRITZ. 

Oh, mother ! mother ! 
No, no ! thy son is not yet dead. Look here, 
He lives, is well, and nought is wanting to him ! 

augustin. 
Ha ! bless'd Saint Francis ! 

CHARLOTTE. 

Heavenly Saviour ! 

WERNER. 

My child ! my son ! my Fritz ! thou liv'st, my Fritz ! 
( The Parents embrace the Child — every one shows his 
joy and astonishment.) 



1 1 2 REMAINS, 



TO MISS 



Moray House, lith December, 1828, 
" I am glad to think you have enjoyed Columbus so 
much, and I assure you that I shall ever enjoy being the 
mediator of your book parcels, on account of the little 
remembrances I expect them to contain of the inhabi- 
tants of . Besides, I natter myscdf (or perhaps 

I do not) when I say that I think myself rather a more 
competent judge of books, suited to your taste, than any 
bookseller in this city of books. 

Though I do not expect you to be so much interested 
with the smaller volumes of this packet as with the 
larger ; yet, I do hope, you will find the Shepherd Boy 
worth reading ; nay, if you are as much alive to simple 
pathos as some of my friends have been, that you will 
be powerfully affected. The story is not strictly religious, 
and yet it breathes most strongly a deep trust in God ; 
and it appears only rational and proper to enjoy the hap- 
piness that God allows us, if we do not forget the Giver 
of our blessings, in the blessings themselves. Write to 
me what you think of the characters of Augustin, Char- 
lotte, and Werner. I wish I could be at Auchtermair- 
nie to read the little book with my own elocutionary 
powers. I am a vain creature, after all, I fear. I should 
be ashamed to say how often I have read my own trans- 



REMAINS. 113 

lation ; but it may perhaps extenuate my crime when I 
say, that it was translated for a particular amie of mine, 
and that, perhaps, its chief charm to me consists in re- 
calling to me the times when I sat, and willing sat, in 
the late hours of night, scribbling away at the interleaved 
copy of the original, to get it all ready for the birth-day 
of the person I allude to ; — and it was so got ready, and 
received quite as favourably as I could have anticipated. 
I should add, my little book is a strict translation, line 
for line, so I deserve no credit for any thing but know- 
ing German. I have not published my name, as J am 
not sure that it is, on the whole, advantageous to me, as 
a W.S., to be a dabbler in light literature. If you please, 
I shall be as well pleased not to be spoken of as the 
translator ; although, for my own part, I have more plea- 
sure in this work than in any of my most profitable 
business. 



On Sabbath, 15th June 1828, the Lord's Supper 
was celebrated in the Parish Church of Kirk- 
aldy. In the evening a crowd assembled to hear 
The Rev. Edward Irving preach ; and in the 



1 ] -i REMAINS. 

pressure, one of the galleries fell, and 28 indivi- 
duals perished. 

The following Lines were written upon the occa- 
sion, and published in the Edinburgh Weekly Jour- 
nal of Wednesday following : — 

It is a blessed sight, my native land, 

When, on the cheerful Sabbath summer day, 

Thy pious pastors call upon their flock 

To pay their vows, in presence of His people, 

Before the Lord ; their spirits to renew 

In virtue's path, and taste redeeming love : 

Yes ! 'tis a blessed sight, — the grey-haired sire, 

Rich in a peaceful heart, (whom loving hands support 

Of children's children,) slowly walks along 

The well known footpath, to the House of God. 

The holy mother, too, with joyful mind, 

In faith assured, the trembling daughter leads, 

Who, full of humble hope, for the first time, 

Offers her guileless heart upon the altar ; 

And sorrow too approaches, and contrition, 

Invited by the blotter out of sins, 

To taste of mercy. 

If there be a time 
When the awakened soul could dare the blaze 
Of heaven's eternal glory, it is this ; 



REMAINS. 11. 

For who, beside the Table of the Lord 
Hath been, and felt not what cannot be told, 
Of peace, and hope, and faith, and glowing love 
To God, and to his brethren, — earthly things 
So poor, so priceless, and the eternal truth 
Engraven on the new-born heart of man ? 
Oh ! who hath felt like this, and hath not sighed 
For the dread time, when, from this clay released, 
The unfettered spirit soars to meet its God, 
And mingle with the universal love, 
Where all is blessedness ? 

But yesterday, 
On such a Sabbath, holy and serene, 
A Christian flock had met, with pious hearts, 
To feast as the disciples of their Saviour, 
And eat of the Last Supper, (which to many 
Was indeed the last,) and they were filled 
With holy thoughts, and praised their glorious God, 
And came once more, ere yet the sun should set, 
Again the sacred word to hear, and strengthen 
The vows of virtue, which their hearts had paid ; 
Oh ! they were ripe in faith, and strong in hope ; 
And every taint of vice had vanished, 
And kindred faces sat in love together, 
Beaming affection, — brother smiled on sister, 
Mother on son, and father on his daughter, 



HO' REMAINS. 

With looks of holiness, that seemed to say, 
Are we not truly blest ? and some, perchance. 
Looked wistfully towards that happy time 
When young and old, in their appointed season, 
Gathered together by the reaper Death, 
Should live for ever in the light of heaven, 
Of which this earthly foretaste was so sweet. 
And their full hearts perhaps were whispering, 
How pleasant are the tabernacles of the Lord I 
With oil my head he hath anointed, 
My cup o'erflows ; yea, I will fear no evil, 
Ev'n tho' I walk thorough the shady vale 
Of death, — for thou art with me, and thy rod 
And staff, they comfort me. Yes, all my life 
Goodness and mercy sure shall follow me, 
And I shall dwell within the House of God 
For evermore. 

Alas ! whence was that shriek 
Of agony, that fearful, dreadful crash — 
That hum of many voices in despair ? 
How streams the crowd from out the sacred temple 
With looks of horror, wildly — wildly gazing ? 
Ye who desired to be with God are there — 
His house was your last earthly dwelling place, 
His mercy your last meal, the cup of life 
The cup of death and blessedness, His staff 
Your last support, His chastisement salvation. 



BEMA1NS, 117 

No pang was yours ; death came unheard, undreaded, 
At once, and ye are sleeping — Shall we mourn ? 
Were ye not ripe for death ? Oh ye have gained 
A glorious lot, to sup in Paradise. 
Not yours' to see those whom ye dearest love, 
Rent from your arms. — Here hrother died with sister, 
Mother with son, and father with his daughter, 
And all have trod the self same path of life, 
And all are now in heaven with their God. 

Ye who are left hehind, and who have seen 
This solemn sight, ye never will forget 
This supper of the Lord. Oh ! in your hearts 
May virtue still he strengthened, may ye think 
With awe upon this sudden, happy, death 
Of many whom ye knew so well. If you 
Are children of the Lord, oh ! praise Him, praise Him, 
And wait with patience the appointed time 
When ye too shall be blest ; and if perchance 
Ye know Him not, oh ! praise Him evermore, 
That ye were not cut off, but, in His mercy, 
Were blessed with a season to repent,. 
And turn from sin. 

Sleep, blessed martyrs, sleep ! 
And wake in blessedness. Your earthly garment, 
By the great Sacrament in part thrown off, 
When faith was pointing out the way to heaven, 



118 REMAINS. 

Is dropt for ever. How was recompensed 
That little moment of untold-of horrors, 
When next ye opened your eyes on heaven, 
And saw before the throne of the Eternal 
Your heavenly Saviour, and your much loved friends ! 
Oh God ! that it were mine thus blest to die, 
Seated thy servant at the feast of love, 
Then snatched away to heaven. 
15^ June, 1828. 



CRUSADER'S SONG. 

To the field ! knights, and warriors, the bold, and the 

brave, 
For the chaplet of honour, or glorious grave ; 
The blood-thirsty Paynims their scymitars wield 
In despite of the cross — to the field, to the field ! 

To the field, noble Franks ; lo ! proud Solyma stands, 
And freedom and victory asks at your hands. 
Is the Saracen safe in her strength and her shield ? 
No ! scale the high walls, — to the field, to the field ! 



REMAINS. 110 

To the field ! on the morrow proud Solma shall sing 
In triumph and praise to her God and her king ; 
And His grace shall he given where His arm was revealed, 
To the children of Christ, — to the field, to the field ! 

To the field ! the bright sun in these orient skies 
No more on the Saracen's standard shall rise ; 
By the tomb of your Saviour our sins shall be healed. 
Now warriors and knights, to the field, to the field ! 

To the field ! Christian soldiers, His chosen abode, 
To His people is given by Jerusalem's God ; 
In life or in death, 'mong the blest ye are sealed — 
St. George and the Cross ! — to the field, to the field ! 

21st July, 1828. 



THE FAREWELL OF MILTON. 

Ah me ! the sun shines warmly, and, in sooth, 
The year is in her youth, 
Clothed with fair trappings, colours bright, 
And dancing tremblings of heaven's light. 



120 REMAINS. 

Ah me ! and now 'tis but in dreams I see 
The verdant garment of each waving tree, 

Visions of ever past delight ! 

For ne'er again that sight 
Shall ope to me. 

So long, alas ! so long mine eyes are sealed 

In dark and changeless night ; 

The thousand beauties of the grove and field, 

To me no more revealed. 

Was that a cloud across the west 
That hid the glow of Phoebus' golden car, 
Or in the ocean bed afar 

Would he already sink to rest ? 

Oh Deity thrice blest ! 
Would that my course, like thine, were o'er, 
And the pale light within mine aching breast, 
With care and pale disease oppressed sore, 
The only light, alas ! that burns for me, 

Would cease to be. 

'Tis true what ancient sages say, 

That if one sense decay 

The others straight become more keen ; 

For tho' no smile of love can now be seen 



REMAINS. 121 



Henceforth by these dark eyes, 
Yet do I feel in the fond filial kiss 
Far more of tenderness, 
*And now how doubly do I prize 
Affection's right, 
The words of love my daughters speak, 
While tears gush down my cheek. 

How sweet a little flower to smell, 

Culled by a daughter's hand ; 

How well I understand 
The simple story that it hath to tell 

Of happy childhood's days ; 

The forest's pleasing maze, 
Ah ! yet my heart remembers well, 

And how the wild flowers grew 

Of various hue ; 
And hummed the honey-laden bee, 

And played the sunbeams bright ; 

But ne'er again that sight 
Shall ope to me ! 

Sweet is the voice of piety and love 

In the old blind man's ear ; 
They call my spirit to the skies above, 



122 REMAINS. 

And seem to leave my poor frail body here. 
Children, and friends most dear, 

Ye little know how I approve 

Each tone, each word of kindness and of love. 

And far, far less ye know 

The tones celestial that float below ; 

For often steals around 

A heavenly sound, 
When fixed I seem to gaze, 
And to the skies my sightless eyeballs raise, 

In that strange minstrelsy my senses wound ; 
The glorious thoughts my wandering mind amaze, 
And e'er the dying music cease, 
To mine old heart it speaketh peace. 

But more than these, far more, altho' mine eye, 
Even in the brightest sky, 
No gleam, however faint, of light can find, — 
Yet in the everlasting realm of mind 

I am not blind, — 
No, far more clearly than in other days, 

Before mine eyes had felt his chastening rod, 
And all around could see his mercy's rays — 

I see his glory's blaze — 

I see my God ! 



REMAINS. 123 

And Him I will for ever, ever praise ; 
For oft, methinks, in visions I have knelt 

Before his glorious throne ; 

And often times alone 
Have prayed with prayers heart-felt, 
With blessed Seraphim have dwelt, 
And tasted inspiration from their speech, 
Which my poor broken heart could never reach. 

August, 1828. 



SONG. 

Fly, warrior, fly, the gate stands wide, 
The Paynim guard hath left thy side, 
A galley sails on yonder sea, 
There — death-doomed captive, thou art free, 
Here — and this sun shall see thee die,— 
Fly, warrior, fly ! 

Fly, Christian, fly ! hark, hark ! the Moor 
Strikes thy last knell on deep tambour ; 
To thee, what are thine oath, thy faith ? 
Think, Christian, on a dreadful death, 
Think of thy maiden's weeping eye, — 
Fly, Christian, fly ! 



1 24 REMAINS. 

The warrior's heart can never faint, 
True knighthood's honour nought can taint ; 
The witness of the Christian faith 
Knows how to die a brave man's death, 
Knows, when his heart in twain is riven, 
He lives in Heaven. 

And bright blue eyes shall weep me dead, 
Eyes that had scorned me, had I fled, 
Tongues which had cursed the flying slave 
Shall sing the death song of the brave, 
Here, bind mine arms, brave Moor, and take 
Me to the stake. 
18^ October, 1828. 



ELEGY AT THE GRAVE OF A FATHER. 

Blessed are the dead which slumber in the Lord ; 

And therefore, oh, my father, thou art blest ! 
An angel smiling spake the awful word, 

And now thou art at rest. 

And wanders o'er a thousand stars thy soul, 
And scarce discovers earth's poor empty space, 

But sees, where everlasting thunders roll, 
The Almighty's blessed face. 



REMAINS. 125 

Thou seest disclosed the book of ancient days, 
And deeply drink'st of life's eternal spring ; 

Time's darkest ages dawn before thy gaze, 
Their secrets opening. 

Yet in thy glory's never fading course, 

Still, father ! looks thy face with love on me ; 
For me before God's throne thou kneelest down, 
' And God gives ear to thee. 

Be near me when the drop of life is spent, 

Which from his urn of time my God hath given ; 

Be near me, when death's arm is kindly sent 
To lead the way to Heaven. 

Fan, gently fan, my face, death-marked and pale, 
With the blest palm that grows in Paradise, 

That I may fearless see the dark, dark vale 
Whence life to come shall rise. 

That I may soar with thee through heaven afar, 

Spirits of glory, never more to weep ; 
That we may dwell upon the same bright star, 

And in God's bosom sleep. 

Blossom meanwhile, in nature's lowliness ; — 
Ye roses ! shed your flowers on his tomb. 



126 REMAINS. 

Sleep on ! thou corse, in silent holiness, 
Earth-sown in heaven to bloom. 

October, 1828. 



TO A SISTER, 

ON THE DEATH OF ANOTHER SISTER. 

Translated from the German of Holty, in October 1828. 

Come, approach the bed of death, 

Where thy sister's body lies, 
Where her spirit left the path 

Of earthly miseries. 

Dry thy tears — Far, far above, 

Where the bless'd Redeemer reigns, 

Doth she sing with faith and love 
Heart consoling strains. 

Think of this pale countenance, — 

Of this bed of tears and sighs, 
When thou minglest in the dance 

Of earthlv vanities ! 



REMAINS. 127 

Think upon her fight of death; 

When vain thoughts should far be driven ; 
Think upon her smile of death,, 

To prepare for Heaven ! 



TO H. M. 



Moray House, 1st January 1829. 
I spent among the last hours of last year, and the first 
of this, in sitting at my desk, (my own desk, not my 
business one) alone. I spent some more to-day at the 
pianoforte ; and between the inspirations I have written 
what I felt at the close of a year. You remark in your 
letter to-night, " Begin this new year as if you were be- 
ginning eternity," — something of the same idea has been 
with me in this stanza : — 

THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR. 

Soon the tongue of midnight bell 
Shall strike the solemn warning knell 

Of the close of year. 

Hark ! the hour is near, 



128 REMAINS. 

Gather friends around, around, 
Let us mark the awful sound ! 

Hast thou gathered treasures here, 
And profaned the sacred year ? 
Tremble ! for thy heart 
Is from Heaven apart. 
When the fears of death assail, 
What shall stores of gold avail ? 

From his rise earth's sun decays ; 

Never fades the heavenly blaze ! 
If no nearer Heaven, 
Mortal, thou hast striven, 

Fruitless hath the year passed by, 

Fruitless grief, and fruitless joy. 

,-. 

Are they dead, most loved, most dear, 
Who, with thee, began the year 

Full of life and love, 

Are they now above ? 
Let us strive, at last, to rest 
Where these loved ones are blest. 

Soon to close this orbit's goal, 

The trumpet's awful sound shall roll ; 



REMAINS. 129 

Then the graves shall ope 

To despair or hope ! 
Choose between earth's dross and sighs, 
And the treasures of the skies. 

Hark ! the year his course has run — 
Hark ! another year begun — 

Deep the iron tolls 

On our quivering souls ; 
Life's first journey ye have passed, 
Now ye enter on the last ! 



LINES 

Translated from the German of C. E. Kleist — February 1829. 

And she hath fled ! Alas, 'tis over now ! 
What distance parts us, Albert ne'er will know. — 
She 's gone ! ye breezes fan my throbbing brow, 
Perchance from her ye blow ! 

And she hath fled ! Ye streams, tell Adelaide, 
Without her steps the meadow's verdure flies,' — 
To her ye flow ! Tell her the forests fade, 
And that her Albert dies. — 
i 



130 REMAINS. 

What vale by her adorn'd dotli fairer seem — 
What woodlands listen to her song — where dance 
Her joyous footsteps — what new charmed stream 
Reflects her countenance ? 

One pressure of her hand, one burning kiss, 
One look of love like that which once she gave, 
Grant me from her ! then break for ever, bliss, 
And let me seek the grave ! 

Thus hapless Albert told, with tearful eye, 
His tale of sorrow to the beechen shade, 
And nymphs and zephyrs seem'd with him to sigh, 
Alas, for Adelaide ! 



ON A SEAL,_ARMS, CROSS, GULES;— CREST, A SCAL 
LOP SHELL Motto, " Sic itur in altum." 

" Such is the path to Heaven !" — That simple shell, 
Through burning sands, the pious pilgrim bore ; 
And like his Saviour, whom he loved so well, 
O'er Judah's rocks, that bloody cross he bore ! 



REMAINS. 131 

To me, to all, as to the pilgrim saint, 
A weary pilgrimage on earth is given ; 
To me, to all, when our weak hearts would faint, 
The cross proclaims — " Such is the path to Heaven !" 
February 1829. 



THE POET'S MIND. 



If thou, Almighty, hast on me bestowed 

The glorious gift of song — if in my heart 

These deep and passionate notes have sounded forth- 

If mine be converse with the world of light, 

When my soul trembles on the verge of heaven — 

If I can wake the sleeping sentiments 

Of human minds, and vividly call forth 

The slumbering feelings — if, interpreter 

Of nature's secrets, I can point the way 

To life and truth, — Thine is the gift, Great God, 

And in the holy purpose of thy will 

'Tis given. Be my hard heart, by heavenly love, 

Softened and tried — be holy sorrow mine, 

And true repentance of the sins I've done — 

Be but my sacrifice of thee accepted, 

Then I am pure as heaven, and thou wilt dwell 

For ever in my soul ; my fervent spirit 



132 REMAINS. 

Shall from tins earthly temple speak, untainted 
By aught of man ; and in those words of thine, 
Which I, thy prophet speak, the simple mind 
Shall read thy mysteries, Then shall my harp, 
By thee attuned, in majesty sound forth 
Thy glory, and thy mercy, and thy love, 
The praise of virtue, ne'er on earth attained 
But once, and he no man. Yes ! I shall sing 
With heavenly modulation, to the soul of sorrow 
Comfort, and peace — to joys, celestial joys — 
To wounded love, of Jesus — to the poor, 
Th}' riches inexhaustihle — to guilt, 
Thy loving kindness — and to innocence, 
The heauty of thy holiness. Oh bliss ! 
To be a priest of thine on earth, to win 
Souls to salvation, pouring oil and wine 
In earth's most direful wounds ; each single chord 
I strike, shall tell of human hearts and feelings, 
1 Winning warm tears from youthful cheeks, when love 
Or suffering virtue are my themes ; but all 
Shall be most sweetly tuned in one full note, 
Sounding thy glorious name ; — Great God ! I ask 
On earth no more ; and she whom my soul loves, 
A ministering angel she will be on earth, 
Telling thy tender mercies. 
February 1829. 



REMAINS. 



TO MISS 



Edinburgh, 21st April 1829. 

I now return your pretty little book; which I hope 
you will not like the worse for being defaced with some 
of my wondrous compositions. I have not added very 
largely to the few I put in at Auchtermairnie ; but I 
have added a few, and I hope they will meet with the 
same poetical criticism which their precursors have ex- 
perienced. I once attached more importance to my poeti- 
cal trifles than I now do, for I feel that it is incompatible 
with my profession to devote much time to the tc gai 
saber ;" but whenever I do find time to dream myself into 
the poetical world, I enjoy it quite as much as ever ; and, 
it may be, when my years begin to be upon the wane, 
and leisure may be more abundant, that I shall return to 
my favourite studies with a youthful ardour. Meantime, 
in the real constitution of things, there is perhaps more 
good to be achieved in the more forbidding paths of legal 
knowledge. 

I am on the eve of setting out for the beautiful lake 
of Derwent water, as, if I do not make out a visit there 
before the Court sit, I shall be obliged to be in town 
until August. You may guess that I have even more 
pleasure in the prospect of this visit, than in one to your 



134 REMAINS. 

mansion ; but I believe there is no other place of which 
I could say the same. 

There have been several interesting works published 
lately. The name of Segur's is History of Russia, and of 
Peter the Great. It is said to be very well written. 
There is also an interesting book on natural history, 
called Journal of a Naturalist, describing, in a pleasing 
natural way, the habits of various insects, which the 
author had himself studied. But the most delightful 
book of this kind, perhaps, is Kirby and Spence's Ento- 
mology. In that work our attention is awakened to a 
thousand minute and wonderful provisions of nature, 
which are all elucidated in such a way as to lead us 
more and more to recognise the wisdom of their Maker. 



LINES 

Written after a last visit to Keswick before his Marriage. 

We hae parted, we hae parted, 

We shall never part again ; 
For the neist time that I see thee 

Is to mak thee a' mine ain ! 
'Tis a thought that sweetens sorrow., 

5 Tis a thought that cures a' pain ; 



REMAINS. 1 3.5 

We hae parted, we hae parted, 
We shall never part again ! 

We hae parted, we hae parted, 

Shall we never part again ? 
What shall cheer the broken hearted, 

When the ither shall be gane ? 
Some sweet voice frae Heaven shall whisper, 

Wi' a saft and holy strain. 
Ye hae parted, ye hae parted, 

Ye shall never part again ! 

We hae parted, we hae parted, 

We shall part but ance again ! 
And the dead shall fondly hover 

O'er the mourner left alane. 
When we meet to love for ever, 

Soul to soul shall sing this strain, 
We hae parted, we hae parted, 

We shall never part again .J. 

June 1829. 



13f> REMAINS. 



TO H. M. 



*Blarannich Cottage, 1st July, 1829, 
The same rooms at Stirling and Callander did we 
occupy, t and a fine day shone upon us, as we, after a 
hearty breakfast, entered the Trosachs. It is strange, 
however, that my feelings were during this visit so little 
moved, — I felt sad and unwell, and the powerful and 
noble ideas of my former visit would not rise in my mind. 
* • * * * The grandeur of the scene was hurt by its 
distinctness and bright sunshine. Nothing, on this oc- 
casion, was left for fancy, and, what was still worse, 
its silent holiness was disturbed by the rattling of loaded 
carts ; I felt strongly how much our impressions depend 
upon our internal state of mind. 



My only other plague is nightly perspiration, which 
poisons sleep and robs it of its balm. I believe you would 

* On the Banks of Loch Lomond — the hospitable residence of 
Mrs. Dr. Stuart. 

-|- Alluding to his previous visit to Loch Katrine, &c. — See p. 85. 



REMAINS. 137 

not find me half so amiable now as I used to be, for a little 
illness makes me very crabbed and cross, and, finding 
that much speaking is a bad thing, I look, I daresay, in 
my silence, uncommonly sulky. It is to be hoped Jane 
will find me bearable in my cross humours ; at any rate 
it will be an excellent trial of her patience. 



Although, I declare, I was as careful as I ever was, 
indeed much more so, this cough has attacked me, and I 
have the usual satisfaction of being scolded on all hands, 
as a careless, stupid fellow. — How much mankind judge 
by effects ! Let two men dive into the sea, and one 
find a valuable pearl, the other a grave, the first is a 
most bold and clever man, the second is a foolhardy 
blockhead. Success in business is similarly treated. — 
Well, there is no judge like conscience, if he be not 
bribed or blinded, but we are great self-deceivers even 
there. 



From the constitution of the human mind we are 
easily aware that there is no enjoying happiness without 
previous preparation in suffering, and this ought to teach 
us, that to us mortals heaven could not be heaven, were 
we not to prepare for it by a life of probation. 



138 REMAINS. 

Had the earth been created without evil, how would 
the character have attained to holiness through tribula- 
tion? As it is, our sufferings and trials ought to be 
sweet to us, when we think of that happiness that will 
follow them, and the goodness and wisdom which sus- 
tains us during their passage. How glorious will be the 
prospect when we can look together on the future and 
the past, and understand the harmony of that glorious 
plan, which is now too vast for our comprehension ! 



TO JANE, 

With a book of my own Music. 

A little offering this, but prize it much. 

For few will prize it, dearest Jane, like thee : 
My fingers know not music's artful touch, 

Nor rules of scientific harmony ; 

My teachers were the birds upon the tree, 
Singing in untaught strains from tremulous throat, 

In speech of soothing sorrow or glad glee, 
A universal music, where each note 
Seem'd in the full strings of the heart to float. 

My teachers were the birds upon the tree, 

The winds anions; the Autumnal woods, the waves 



REMAINS. 1'j 

Roused by the tempest on the wide., broad sea, 
Which dashed and growled amid the ocean caves, 
The straining of the ship which idly braves 

The missioned storm, the whistle, shrill and loud, 
Of the death-spirit in the tops, who craves 

The victim crew, — Hark ! how they rave aloud, 
And find among the white sea foam a shroud. 



Awful, such music. Sweeter in the glade 
The gentle sighing of a Summer's breeze 

Fanning the forehead in the grateful shades, 
And sweetly rustling in the quivering trees, 
Among the flowers the hum of thousand bees ; 

Then, solemn pealing from the distant tower, 
The heavy chimes upon the fancy seize, 

Tolling the entrance of another hour, 

In which, perchance, shall fade both tree and flower. 

To all, such music strongly, deeply, speaks, 

And echoes in the chords of every soul, 
Blanching and reddening guileless, youthful cheeks, 

With feelings nought but science can control. 

Oft is the tree of knowledge nature's goal. 
Ob, choose not reason's cold and selfish truth, 

For, if the charmed veil away it roll, 



140 



Then vice, distrust, and guile, with wicked tooth, 
Burst, like a storm, upon the innocence of youth. 
July, 1829. 



TO MISS 

Keswick, 18M July, 1829. 

-X- * * -X- -X- -X- 

Of course I enjoy my residence here very much. It 
is delightfully quiet, and commands charming views. 
Southey's house stands at a distance of two or three 
hundred yards, and we frequently see him walking ahout 
with some of his family. He appears to be of domestic 
habits, and his attachments are those of literature and 
retirement. You will say that I ought to be quite poetical 
in such a situation ; but, I presume, my mental powers 
are at present rather weak, like my bodily ones. I have 
great pleasure, however, in reading ; and as Jane's tastes 
are very similar to mine, we read almost always together ; 
my voice does not permit me to converse much, and, 
therefore, she generally reads to me. Our walks are also 
very pleasant and frequent. I feel but little bodily 
weakness, considering the violence of my cough, and 
walked yesterday six miles before breakfast. No place 
I am acquainted with presents in so short a space such 



REMAINS. 141 

a diversity of beautiful walks, and the views are on all 
sides beautiful. In clear weather we can see one Scotch 
mountain, and thither I frequently look. 

My plans are, of course, very uncertain. The first and 
most important is to get well. In the meantime, amidst 
other reading, I have been giving a little time to sacred 
studies. I read the other day, with care, the little 
treatise in the shape of a letter, by Miss Sinclair to her 
sister, on the Christian religion. Beautiful as it is, I 
found it necessary to force my attention to it, as I have 
a great backwardness to giving my mind, and more espe- 
cially my heart, to such subjects. I am apt to feel my 
understanding flattered and my reason puffed up without 
any sentiment of lowliness or humility. I can frequently 
arrive at a kind of belief by reason, but seldom do I feel 
the witness in myself! I would I were more humbly 
faithful and more truly repentant of my sins. I ought 
to make use of this season for reflection afforded by a 
cessation from business, and God grant that my ill- 
ness may be thus, in what nearest concerns me, beneficial 
to me. 



142 REMAINS. 



REMEMBRANCE OF CHILDHOOD. 

I. 

In evening's silent hour, in forest sloom, 

Or by the gentle river's tangled brink, 

Or near the holy precincts of the tomb, 

On clays and years gone by I love to think, 

Connecting witching memory link by link 

With tales long ended, and with time to come ; 

And as I gaze upon the starlit skies, 

How strangely bright the dreams of other days arise ! 

II. 

When fades the splendour of the glorious day, 
The thousand suns of peaceful night I hail : 
Perchance the thrush may sing his mournful lay, 
Or rustic music steal on ev'ning's gale ; 
These spells ! they rend at once time's envious veil, 
And chase all present things far, far away. — 
Dear treach'rous fancy, on my senses reign, 
Give me the blessed days of childhood once again ! 

III. 

Yes, once again do childhood's scenes appear, 
And childhood's feelings rise as warm and kind ; — 



REMAINS. 143 

The lurking smile beside the starting tear, 

The blessed purity of heart and mind, — 

To love still open, to suspicion blind, 

And nought to hate, and scarcely aught to fear ; 

And all is good, and beautiful, and fair, 

For nought can taint blest childhood's pure and sacred air. 

IV. 

I know that dear deception is a dream, 

But will not think it so. — How clear, how bright 

Faces of friends long dead around me gleam, 

Benignant smiling through the shades of night, 

And all is painted in a holy light ; 

And here my childhood's home beside the stream, 

And there the fields and garden where I played ; — 

Oh, let me mark the blessed vision ere it fade. 

V. 

And who art thou, among the jocund ring 

Of boys and girls, who clamber up to kiss, 

And smile upon thy face of love, and sing 

In childish song their joy and happiness ? 

Sure thou art blest, for on a face like this 

I see no trace of grief or suffering : 

I look on thee again, — it is none other, 

Thou dearest, best of parents, — yes, thou art my mother ! 

Summer* 1 825). 



144 REMAINS. 



It will not have escaped the reader's notice, 
that during the summer of 1829, the illness, of 
which the previous attacks had given San die's 
friends some anxiety, had recurred, and with symp- 
toms more serious in their character than had pre- 
viously been betrayed. It was in consequence re- 
solved, under the best medical advice, that he should 
go abroad. Rome was at first chosen as his desti- 
nation ; but, as will appear in the sequel, that de- 
sign was not ultimately adhered to. Before the 
necessity of this step appeared, his marriage had 
been fixed to take place on 1st September 1829 ; 
and in circumstances involving mauy difficulties, 
and much anxious consideration, it was deemed 
most advisable not to alter that arrangement. He 
was accordingly united on that day to Miss Thomp- 
son, whom he had now loved for two years ; and it 
has since been a source of gratifying reflection to 
the friends who sanctioned with their approbation a 
step, which, in the world's coldly prudential judg- 
ment, without respect to the peculiarity of the cir- 
cumstances, was, probably, deemed unwise, that 
they thus imparted to the last years of two affec- 
tionate hearts the happiness and mutual consols- 



BEMAINS. 146 

tion and support of a union cemented and endeared 
by a warm and increasing attachment, which only 
derived additional tenderness from trial and affliction. 
The letters and journal which follow will carry 
on the narrative continuously. It is only necessary 
to premise, that the party consisted of Sandie, his 
wife, his sister Elizabeth, his brother Duncan, and 
Dr. John Menzies. Of these five only two, Mrs. 
A. P. Thompson, and Duncan Cowan, are now 
alive, (September, 1838.) 



TO HIS YOUNGEST BROTHER, 

Keswick, llth September, 1829. 

I am going to take an awful long journey, to Rome 
all the way, having had a kind invitation from Cicero 
and Virgil ; Cicero has heard I am a great lawyer, and 
Virgil, that I am a great poet, and they are both very 
anxious to see me. We are to live at Cicero's Tusculan 
villa, and ride into Rome in the forenoon. 

A great trial is to take place in the Forum against a 
rascal called Catiline, in which Cicero thinks my know- 
ledge of Scotch law may be of use. You will be sur- 
prised to hear that Julius Caesar is returning from Gaul, 

K 



1-±6 REMAINS. 

some say with hostile intentions,, and the Senate have 
some idea of equipping an army, with Pompey at its 
head against him. Since Sylla's death or rather life, 
there is an evident decline of liberty at Rome ; and 
Cato is perhaps the only man of the old Roman stand- 
ard. How very interesting it will he for me to meet 
all these great men, who are sometimes erroneously 
supposed to be dead. General Hannibal with his one 
eye is yet alive, and lives incognito under the Pope's 
protection, that the followers of Scipio may not murder 
him. I shall have some interesting cracks with him, and 
Fabius, and Marcellus, on the Italian war, and Thrasi- 
mene, and Cannae, and I shall be glad to write to you 
to clear up any thing that may puzzle you in your 
studies ; for the history of all this is written by your friend 
Livius Pata vinus. I wish I could get a reading of 
Sallust's, and I shall ask him for it, as I believe it will 
he lost to modern times. Of course if I become famous, 
you will hear plenty about me in Livy. The name I 
intend to take is Augustus ; and I have some idea of 
extending my empire as far as Britain, In future times, 
however, satiated with glory and power, and enjoying 
the delights of a calm philosophy soon after, I, with my 
dear Jane, connubio jungam stabili propriamque clicabo. 
I shall spend a winter at Rome without mixing in the 
busy maze of politics, but in the wise occupations of 



REMAINS. 147 

study. While to iEsculapius I shall offer up cocks with- 
out number, and pour out gallons of libations to Galen, 
I shall likewise follow the steps of the patient Socrates 
uncursed by a Xantippe. Plato, Xenophon, and the 
thousand sages of the past shall disclose their wisdom, 
and dum corpus sanatur, anima colenda est. With 
these advices, my dear James, I conclude by wishing 
you all that is good for you. * * * So vale mi/rater. 

Scripsi Kesvici, die xi°. Sept. m.dccc.xxix. 

A. C. 



LINES 

Written in his Cousin H. M'C.'s Alburn of his Verses. 

I love, yes, dearly love the simple rhymes, 
Which tell the story of my dearest hours, 
And breathe the spirit of departed times, 
Blent with the sweetness of life's vernal flowers. 
Alas ! the tree of wisdom's ripening powers, 
Which fleeting years and sad experience give, 
Although it teach the galled heart to live, 
It is not sweet as childhood's blooming bowers. 



148 REMAINS. 

The rosy blossoms on the flower of youth ! 
Yes, they were sweet, and beautiful, and gay ; 
Upon the tree of life those buds decay, 
But ripen from their blight the fruits of truth. 

Grove Cottage, 24th September 1829. 



EXTRACTS FROM MS. VOLUME, 
ENTITLED 

" JOURNAL OF A TOUR IN FRANCE AND ITALY, 
BEGINNING 25TH SEPTEMBER 1829." 

Liverpool, 25th September 1829. 
Liverpool, and the neighbourhood altogether, want the 
air of antiquity which is so beautiful in the more primitive 
parts of England. One finds few old trees, and very few old 
houses. On the contrary, streets of new red brick, built 
on the cheapest possible plan ; and in the country, flar- 
ing villas, built, for the most part, with very little taste, 
or rather, with great bad taste, are to be seen on all 
sides. It was quite refreshing, to-day, near the Dingle, 
to come upon an old English farm house, with its 
mullioned windows, and strange projections and chim- 
neys, embowered in an old productive orchard. Two or 



REMAINS. 149 

three ancient yew trees were around, and the place 
might be, perhaps, 200 years old. After the laboured 
edifices we had seen, and the regular, but stunted, new 
plantations, and the high stone walls, this place had a 
double charm, and we agreed that, in its simplicity, it 
was certainly the prettiest house we had seen. 



Things look more and more like departure. Mrs. T., 
&c, are purchasing all the goods we may require, and 
which we have hitherto forgotten. Trunks, clothes, 
books, &c, are coming in ; and, of course, the house is 
in not less confusion than usual. Dr. M. procured pass- 
ports to-day, cost 10s. each. In mine I am designed 
Notaire Publique, which is by no means flattering to my 
vanity ; and as that office is, in France, a very mean one, 
I think I must have it altered in the passport. We are 
pleased to hear that the Leeds, the vessel which is to 
take us to Bordeaux, is to be here to-morrow, and that 
we shall be able to make but one embarkation. We 
shall sail on Sunday forenoon for Dublin. 

Sept. 26. — This is a day of great bustle, and we are 
all busy packing and making lists. I feci uncommonly 
well, and my evident amendment in health, during the 
last week, although unaccompanied by increase in weight, 
will make us leave home under the happiest auspices ; 



150 REMAINS. 

for, by going thus early, instead of desponding views, wc 
have every reason to expect my recovery, and that the 
effects of this residence in Rome will have a permanent 
good effect upon my health during my whole life. 



My classical prejudices, although sorely rusted, and 
almost jostled from their possessions by an irresistible 
German invasion, are reappearing fast, and the name 
of Rome has struck some forgotten chords, and even 
made me resume my Horace with great interest. I know 
not, as yet, what I may feel on approaching to, and enter- 
ing the Porta del Popolo, but fancy is busied in my sleep- 
ing and waking hours, and Rome is a most engrossing 
subject. 



Bordeaux, 6t7i October 1829. 

I have been by far too long a time without having writ- 
ten in my journal. So many new objects have presented 
themselves, that many things worth noting will, I fear, 
have escaped my memory. The first impressions of a 
foreign land, as they are the keenest, are also the most 
interesting, and, of course, upon paper too. But I must 
return to Liverpool, and get here in due time. 

Sunday, 27th September, was a beautiful day when 



REMAINS. 151 

we first looked out upon it, but there was a sad threaten- 
ing of rising wind, which did not fail to blow hard when 
we got out to sea. We took leave of our kind and 
dear friends at the pier. Until then I had not felt 
muck, then I did feel that there might be those saying a 
last farewell — not that I thought it probable,, but that I 
should return restored to health — but shall I find all of 
those who say farewell ? Let me trust that we shall all- 
meet again. 

Our vessel was the Birmingham, a large steamer, 
deeply laden with coals, an article always largely im- 
ported into Ireland. We went down the Mersey rapidly, 
the tide being favourable, but after some hours it began 
to flow, and our progress was sadly arrested. We were 
about 19 hours of reaching Holyhead, and after our 
wretched night, it was any thing but pleasant to be told 
so at six in the morning, It calmed on the coast of 
Ireland, however, sufficiently to allow us to enjoy the 
Bay of Dublin, but more especially stepping on shore at 
Kingston. They are busy forming a good harbour at 
this point for all times of tide. 

The ragamuffin appearance of the Irish charioteers, 
beggars, &c, was very striking — the cars, of which we 
passed I should guess a hundred in our short drive to 
Dublin, are any thing but Megan t, and are conveyances 
much fitted to prevent conversation, and to receive the 



152 REMAINS. 

rain. Sociables, where the party sit face to face, are 
beginning to come in fashion. The road between King- 
ston and Dublin is excellent, and is a very characteristic 
and gay approach to the Irish capital. The peeps over 
the bay are very pleasing, and the outlines of the Wicklow 
mountains, on the south, are fine. Dublin much wants 
some leading architectural object. There is no huge 
dome like St. Paul's, no gray and magnificent castle like 
Edinburgh, to fix the eye in a distant view. In Dublin 
there is no central object of sufficient grandeur to unite 
the tout ensemble of the view of the city. We drove to 
a Hotel in Sackville Street, called Gresham's, a good 
but expensive house. There is but one hot bath in the 
whole of this establishment. 

We took a short walk before dinner, and were some- 
what annoyed by the very impertinent stare of the 
people, men and women. The ladies' riding habits and 
travelling caps cause this, I suppose, but the staring 
is very marked indeed. Sackville Street is very hand- 
some, about 200 feet wide, we hear ; and it certainly 
has an air of bustle and gaiety which our Edinburgh 
streets want. It is the busiest, as well as the best street 
in Dublin, on a fine level, and adorned with very hand- 
some public buildings. The post-office is magnificent 
compared with the very handsome one at Edinburgh ; 
but the post-office revenues of the countries do not bear 



REMAINS. 153 

the same proportion, that of Ireland, with its fine soil and 
climate, and the much talked of seven millions, "being far 
inferior to poor Scotland. The Bank, formerly the Par- 
liament House, is also a splendid building. The Irish 
would fain restore the former useless and noisy debates 
which were held in it ; at least we hear there is a strong 
wish to dissolve the union with Great Britain. They 
have not yet learned to profit by the absence of a 
government, and of petty politics ; they have retained 
unfortunately the useless shadow of the former, and all 
the bitter spirit of the latter. In Scotland how much 
have we gained in domestic peace, in security of property, 
in national industry, and in moral character, since our 
truckling Parliament was exchanged for a small but suf- 
ficient representation in the British Senate. In Ireland, 
there has been a similar exchange, but time has not yet 
produced the same effects. The mass of the people is 
virtually opposed to a government foreign to them in 
religion, and 30 or 40,000 troops are necessary for the 
quiet ? of the country. The gaiety of the Irish looks very 
like the gaiety of wretchedness. On passing one of the 
quays, there was a great mob of ferocious looking fellows 
collected, evidently expecting some high treat. We did 
not like the squeeze, and escaped to the other side of 
the Liffey ; and we soon saw the attraction of the rabble 
was the conducting some dozen of ragged wretches to 



154 REMAINS. 

gaol. They were packed on cars, which drove through 
the mob with great rapidity, surrounded by a party of 
military with drawn swords. This was by no means a 
pleasing exhibition of the executive. On the walls, in 
various parts of the city, " Murder," and " <£500 reward," 
was a more common bill than " Sermon." But jubilee 
books, and the Right Rev. Dr. Murray, were very common, 
and I observed many miserable looking wretches buying 
these spiritual comforts. 

Dublin, as a city, has little original character in its 
appearance. It is a copy of Loudon, in which Irish 
vanity has endeavoured, in dimensions, to surpass the 
various attractions of the original. Thus, in description, 
Dublin looks much better. The Liffey has many more 
bridges than the Thames, and is bordered by quays. St. 
Stephen's Green is larger than any square in the British 
Metropolis ; Sackville Street wider than Portland Place ; 
and the Phoenix Park far more extensive than the 
Regent's. This tells, however, much better than it looks. 
The Liffey, above the first bridge, is a poor stream, and 
looks very like a canal in a Dutch garden, as if it were 
dug out as an apology for building bridges. The quays 
are, for the most part, narrow, dirty, and, as shipping 
quays, idle. St. Stephen's Green has no buildings round 
it corresponding to its extent. Sackville Street is beau- 
tiful, certain! v, but, like the Phoenix Park, a solitary ob- 



REMAINS. 155 

ject of its kind. The access to the Phoenix Park also is 
wretched, leading through a remote and squalid part of 
the town. 

Sept. 29. — We had charming weather in Dublin. Our 
vessel was detained one very fine day, which gave us an 
opportunity, certainly, to see the city better ; but lost 
us 200 miles of calm sea. Our voyage was, in conse- 
quence, more tedious and disagreeable ; and we were 
subjected to considerable expense in spending another 
day at our hotel. It is a great hardship on a traveller 
who arrives at a seaport to sail on a certain day, to find 
there is nothing less certain than the time of sailing. 
On the 30th September, therefore, after a fruitless drive 
to the boat the day before, we left Ireland, The day 
was delightful, and the view of the bay much more pre- 
possessing than any we previously had. The north shore 
is low and richly wooded ; the south is also rich, and 
backed with finely formed mountains ; and some rocky 
islets are disposed near the mouth of the bay. Our 
voyage this day was remarkably pleasant. The weather 
was mild enough to allow some of the party to dine on 
deck ; and Jane, Elizabeth, &c. "availed themselves of 
this. I dined below, and was seated beside another 
invalid called Jarrett, a very interesting person. He is 
attended by a brother, an English clergyman, who is 
remarkably and beautifully kind to him. The invalid 



15G REMAINS. 

himself is only twenty, although he looks much older ; 
he spent last winter in Cornwall with considerable benefit, 
and is now, by the advice of his physician, going to Malta. 
On mentioning this, he said, with a faint smile, " My 
physicians gave me some hope, and therefore I thought 
it right to go." 

There are several invalids on board, but very little 
coughing. The sea air appears very favourable to cough ; 
but the discomforts, and the want of cleanliness, are, I 
think, more than sufficient to balance this. 

Our voyage was rather a good one, but to us tedious 
and disagreeable enough. We left Dublin on the 30th 
September at twelve; next day, at the same hour, we made 
Cornwall. This was a glorious run. On the morning of 
the 2d we were off Ouessant ( Ushant) at two o'clock ; 
the sea was here very rough, and I was very little on 
deck after the first day, until Saturday the third. This 
day, when I came on deck, we were off Oleron, and the 
sun was shining brightly. We all felt the difference of 
climate, for the whole passengers were on deck without 
cloaks or great-coats. The coast of France is not inter- 
esting here, by any means. Long before entering the 
Gironde, the bright green colour of the sea was exchanged 
for a very muddy tide. A French pilot came on board 
about thirty miles from the Cordouan. He was a strong 
well-built fellow, but very sulky. The night was becoming 



REMAINS. 157 

very stormy when we passed the splendid Pharos, and 
we were glad to anchor in the comparatively smooth 
water of the Gironde. Next morning early we sailed up 
to the Lazaret of Marie Therese at Trompeloup, a mile or 
two below Pauillac. It was a beautiful Sunday morning, 
and the coasts were rather pleasing, though very low. 
The crops were vines principally, and here and there 
were scattered the chateaux of the wine proprietors, and 
little shabby windmills to press the grapes. There 
seemed to be few roads or houses on shore, and a very 
remarkable want of moving population. We remained 
at Trompeloup many hours, as there were more vessels 
to examine than searchers. The custom-house officers 
were, however, very civil. They took from some folks 
silver plate, which has been since restored at Bordeaux, 
I believe ; and from the lining of some pillows many 
yards of flannel, which some imprudent Irishman had 
been foolish enough to put in. A guard of two soldiers 
was left with us until we should reach Bordeaux. 

The accommodations on board the Leeds have been, 
on the whole, tolerable. We each paid seven guineas. 
A charge of one guinea a-piece was made for provisions, 
which is not dear, and 5s. for steward's fees. Break- 
fasts were tolerable, excellent beefsteaks, and good eggs. 
Dinner was a still better meal. The most inexcusable 



158 REMAINS. 

thing was having bad water on board. This was per- 
haps policy on the steward's part — if so, it was shame- 
ful. The tea and coffee,, from this or some other cause, 
were not drinkable, at least Jane, Elizabeth, and I could 
not partake of them. In the cabin where our ladies 
were, was a young Irish lady in a sadly reduced state. 
She is attended by her sister and a medical man, who 
have very little hopes of recovery. I was glad that 
J. & E. were able to be of use to her ; but, from their 
account, I fear that all change of climate is too late, and 
that this is another of those melancholy cases, where an 
unavoidable death is embittered and hastened by the 
fatigues and discomforts incident to travelling. — Alas ! 
many a dying man in a foreign soil, when bereft of 
the comforts of his home, and the attentions of those 
who are dearest to him, must deeply regret that he was 
not allowed to die in peace, and to sleep with his 
fathers in a spot where loving eyes would often have 
wept over his tomb. 

Our bark anchored off Pauillac to wait for the tide, and, 
as Ave understood, for the morning light. Asa steamer 
sails thence for Bordeaux every day, a proposal was made, 
and eagerly embraced by our small party to land here, and 
dine on terra firma, and enjoy a sweeter sleep. A French 
boat boarded us, and offered to row us ashore for four sous 



REMAINS. 159 

a-piece; and with pleasure did we leave the crowd, and 
heat, and bilge-water smell of the Leeds. In a minute we 
stepped upon French ground, on the neat clean pier of 

Pauillac. 

Few persons have ever landed in France with a better 
disposition to be happy and pleased, and, therefore, we 
were so. — The objects around us were all new and smil- 
ing, the people happy and clean, the houses and appear- 
ance of the town in general light and gay. It was Sun- 
day afternoon, and, therefore, quite a holiday; a few 
women were selling delicious grapes, &c. in the streets ; 
the very houses have an air of gaiety, from their slightness 
of construction, their gay and varied colours, and blinds 
to exclude the sun. Every thing tells us that we are 
in a climate for enjoyment. 

We walked, after ordering our dinner, through a street 
or two; they are mostly narrow, but nice and clean. 
There is little noise or bustle, but universal talking. 
How the sabots clack about on the pavement! How 
man, woman, and child giggle in the streets ! I declare 
I have now, while I write, been a fortnight in France, 
and I have seen only one person in tears, and that 
was a child. The people really seem to understand the 
laugh and grow fat. 



160 REMAINS. 

We got into a handsome stone church at Pauillac ; I 
afterwards found it was built a short time since. The 
town contains 1200 inhabitants, and I think the church 
would hold twice the number ; I did not measure it, but 
I should guess it to be about 90 feet wide in the central 
part, and without the walls, 120. It is a plain handsome 
building of white stone, perfectly clean, and afforded a 
pleasing sight. There were many people at their devo- 
tions, and they looked serious and attentive enough. It 
is a beautiful thing to see the same little wicker chairs 
set out in the church for the rich and poor, high and low ; 
it is also beautiful that these catholic churches are always 
open. We are in the habit of ascribing no sanctity to 
churches, and of following literally the scriptural advice 
of entering the closet and shutting the door; but are 
there not many children of misfortune, whose homes are 
the scenes of constant tyranny or immorality, who have 
no closet, the door of which they may shut ; there are 
many houseless and beggars ; to them, to all the wretched 
are the doors opened ; here is a closet, come and pray, 
and derive comfort. 

The streets were clean, the lanes horribly dirty. The 
French must walk little into the country, for really there 
are no paths which look like our sweet English footpaths. 
The people here, and, we afterwards found, in most French 
towns, congregate where there is most to be seen, where 



REMAINS. 1 61 

there is most gaiety, — thus, at Pauillac the quay was 
4;he promenade, and a very pretty one. Some nice acacias 
shaded the walks, and hefore us was the wide calm 
Gironde, with some handsome and picturesque shipping * 
on shore were barrels of wine innumerable, picturesque- 
looking sailors and vignerons, more picturesque women, 
with immense snow-white hoods, or oriental turban- 
looking handkerchiefs ; a few boats lazily moored or 
afloat; and all under a bright southern sun. How I 
wished I could have drawn well, had had a pencil, and 
that it were not Sunday ; but these are three considerable 
obstacles to producing a painting, which, otherwise, 
would have resembled one of Teniers' best efforts. 

Our inn looked poor, but what a dinner ! these French 
rogues do understand the kitchen. Some of these nice 
looking nut-brown maids with coal-black eyes, snow- 
white hoods, long legs, and short petticoats, proceeded 
to lay the cloth. The table was an ugly one, but the 
linen was as white as — foam. — I've used snow too often, 
besides, 'tis a cold simile for this broiling country.— A ser- 
viette was then laid out in the middle of the table, 
Frenchmen being expected to spatter this part in parti- 
cular, napkins were laid around, neatly folded, bread in 
shapes like logs of wood, pepper and salt of nearly the 
same colour, two immense carraffes of water, and two 
bottles of claret which would have rejoiced Falstaff's 



102 REMAINS. 

heart, silver forks, and villainous pointed iron knives. 
Then came dinner ; in the first place, beautiful oysters, 
about 100, with sauces, oils, &c, then soup; second 
course, — roast duck, sausages, roast beef, potatos, arti- 
chokes — delicious, — mutton cutlets, salad of endive, with 
oil and vinegar to be mixed. The dessert which followed 
was a beautiful one ; Gruyere cheese patties, peaches not 
perfectly ripened, walnuts excellent, delicious grapes 
do., pears, almonds, cakes, and almond cake. These 
articles were all abundant, not sparingly doled out, as is 
too often the case ; and this dinner for six persons cost 
— Oh, ye traiteurs of Edinburgh ! — 20 francs, or 2s. 8d. 
a head ! 

Some little traits during dinner are worth noticing. 
Our high-hooded waiters were by no means genees by our 
presence, but sat down in the room, on occasioais chatted, 
and even carried on conversation with the passengers 
of the street below. However, there was no imperti- 
nence, but great civility and attention to us. On chang- 
ing Duncan's tumbler, one of these same damsels threw 
the contents of the glass, half a pint of claret, into the 
street, and then rinsed it with water. We were all in 
prodigious spirits, Jane particularly so, for to her, seeing 
France is like seeing an old friend again, and recognizing 
fifty little traits of his character and habits. She acted 
chiefly also as our interpreter, and contributed most 



REMAINS. 1 G3 

largely to the hilarity of the evening. After dinner, &c. we 
retired to our rooms, which were clean and comfortable., 
but I at least, did not sleep a great deal, owing to a 
dinner rather too much varied. 

5ik October. — We had a dejeuner a la fourchette in the 
morning, little inferior to our dinner, with some excellent 
coffee. The charge was 1 5 francs, or 1\ francs, 2s. each. 
This included white and red wine, and almost the same 
variety of meats and fruits we had the previous evening. 
A few minutes afterwards, we got on board La belle 
Bordelaise, French steamer, for Bordeaux. The vessel 
was a small but comfortable one, and the cabin laid 
out with preparations for breakfast with a neatness I 
never saw in England. A bell tolled three times before 
we started, and we proceeded at a slow rate, as the tide 
was fast ebbing. 

Our passengers were, at this period, chiefly English, 
several of whom had been left on shore at Pauillac the 
day before, and took this method of getting up to Bor- 
deaux. There was one numerous Irish family, by name 
Sause, who have emigrated in a body ; they consist of an 
old good humoured Papa, and a great number of ill and 
overgrown daughters, who are clothed in a most carica- 
ture fashion. They are catholics, and have, probably, come 
for two reasons, cheapness, and preference of a catholic 
country. We proceeded up the river by a circuitous 



1G4 REMAINS. 

course, as we had to call at different towns on eacli side. 
The scenery was at first rich and flat, but it improved 
very much on the north side. The river is very wide, 
and contains several flat islands, until the point of junc- 
tion of the Dordogne and Garonne. We called first at 
Blaye, a town of about 5000 inhabitants ; it has a citadel, 
and is rather gloomy looking for a French town. Here 
we got a large influx of French passengers; priests, 
market women, soldiers, and sportsmen who had been 
spending a Sunday a la chasse. How new and gay arc 
the dresses and costumes of the people ! The country 
now got more beautiful; we were close to the north 
bank, which falls precipitously from a table land of about 
100 feet high into the river. The precipice is of a soft 
easily quarried freestone, and a great demand for that 
useful article has fixed a considerable population here, 
who have embellished La Roque in a high degree. In 
such a climate they fear no damp, and thus the caves 
which they excavate serve for houses, to which they 
build fronts and chimneys. Some easier slopes are 
covered with vineyard or garden; a few trees are scattered 
here and there ; rugged paths wind up the rocks in all 
directions, and on the height is seen now and then some 
old tower among its vineyards looking down on the river. 
This scattered village is a very interesting object, and I 
regretted that there was no time to sketch it while pass- 



REMAINS. 165 

ing; the following attempt is from memory, done at 
Bordeaux ; it conveys a slight idea, but is very imperfect. 



SKETCH. 



This beautiful bank continues to adorn the north shore 
of the Dordogne. We had a fine view up that river at 
its junction with the Garonne, and the situation of the 
little town of Bourg, upon a height, and embosomed in 
trees, pleased us much. We now proceeded up the 
Garonne, which is, for some time, much less interesting, 
the shores being quite flat, and only diversified by some 
small country houses, which become more numerous as 
we approach Bordeaux. These houses are in appearance 
gay, but do not appear to be very generally inhabited at this 
time. The weather at this time unfortunately got worse, 
and, no doubt, hurt our impressions on entering the port 
of Bordeaux ; we saw enough, however, to convince us 
that it was very fine ; on the side opposite the city, 
the banks rise at some distance from the shore. For a 
mile and a half before we landed the port was as thickly 
occupied as the Thames about Limehouse. We amused 
ourselves reading the names and ports of the vessels ; 
they were almost all from the north of Europe, Britain, 
Holland, Sweden, Denmark, and Germany ; there were 
also several Americans ; almost all, of course, for cargoes 



166 REMAINS. 

of wine. At about four o'clock we landed at the Quai 
Louis 18, in a shower of rain ; our tickets or checks were 
demanded while leaving the vessel, a very inconvenient 
arrangement, and it was evident that we were under the 
eyes of the Douane of the city. Immediately on landing 
we got a street coach and drove to the Hotel Marin, so 
called, not from compliment to the naval folks, but from 
the name of the last proprietor. 

Bordeaux. 

We arrived in Bordeaux on the 6th, and only left it on 
the 1 2th October ; we had thus considerable opportunities 
of seeing this fine city, and we found it well worthy of 
so long a stay. No city I have yet visited contains such 
a variety of magnificent elevations of private houses, and 
the streets are in consequence quite unequalled in this 
respect. Even those that are narrow and of forbidding 
appearance, frequently contain facades of a proportion 
that surprises the spectator. This fine architecture is mo- 
dern, for the city before 1740, although possessing many 
interesting gothic remains, had not that air of opulence 
and splendour which now distinguishes it. Since that 
period openings have been made through its narrow ways, 
and the talents of the architect Louis have been developed 
with great success. 






BEMAINS. 167 

Bordeaux is built on the left side of the Garonne, here 
a very fine wide stream of about 600 yards over. The 
river forms a beautiful semicircular bend, and it is on the 
west or convex side of this bend that the city is built. 
The wide and busy quay extends for nearly three miles 
on this side, and is adorned by many public buildings and 
private houses of a noble architecture. From the north 
east, therefore, where there are high grounds, the view of 
the Port of Bordeaux opening like a theatre before the 
spectator, is superb. The river is covered with shipping, 
and behind the line of buildings which border it, the nu- 
merous old gothic spires of the city rise. 

The weather was bad for several days after we arrived 
at Bordeaux, and I therefore stayed in the house, not with- 
out some impatience. Jane and Elizabeth visited the gal- 
lery of paintings one day, but found nothing much worth 
seeing ; a few of the second rate specimens of the second 
rate masters. The first walk I took was on Thursday 
the 9th, when I accompanied J., E., and Dr. M. to the 
bridge over the Garonne, a splendid undertaking, with 
which I was equally delighted and surprised. It is of ex- 
traordinary dimensions, of a handsome and simple archi- 
tecture, and kept in admirable order. We walked across 
to the east side, where the interior of the bridge is exhi- 
bited, and were astonished with the beauty of its construc- 
tion. The roadway rests on arches raised on the piers 



168 REMAINS. 

and arches of the bridge, and thus the space between the 
piers and the road is, excepting the pillars which support 
the latter, perfectly hollow. Under the footways one may 
cross the river in a subterranean path of beautiful per- 
spective, but the carriage road, being a foot or two lower, 
there is there less room. The bridge altogether deserves 
a much more correct and minute description than I could 
give from my very cursory visit, so I shall abridge the 
account of it in the Guide de V Etranger a Bordeaux, 
a performance much superior to the general run of these 
productions. 

The Bridge of Bordeaux was begun under the reign of 
Napoleon, in the year 1810. Like most great undertak- 
ings, it had been previously much talked of and surveyed, 
and the plans for its execution had been frequently 
changed. Napoleon's plan was to erect two abutments 
of stone, and nineteen wooden arches. The piers were 
to be of stone. 

At the restoration of the Bourbons in 1814, the whole 
progress made was, that six of the piers had been begun, 
three raised to low water mark, and three imperfectly 
founded. The work now proceeded more steadily. It 
was found difficult to procure a sufficient quantity of wood, 
and in 1819 it was decided that stone and brick should 
be the materials made use of. About this period Govern- 
ment, wearied, I suppose, with so expensive and difficult 



REMAINS. 169 

an undertaking, transferred to a Company the property of 
tlie Bridge. The Company engaged to complete it within 
three years (on the 1st January 1822,) and they were to 
enjoy the tolls for 99 years from that date, at the end of 
which period it was to become public property. 

The work now went on with extraordinary vigour. The 
Company borrowed, in April 1819, two millions of francs. 
They founded five new piers and built two new abut- 
ments, they built a temporary wooden bridge across the 
river, raised the whole sixteen piers in stone from their 
foundations, constructed seventeen wooden centres on 
which the stone arches were erected, and the Bridge was 
completed three months within the time fixed. The 
whole expense was 6^ millions of francs, or about 
£260,000, which appears a very small sum. 

The following are measurements : — 

Metres. Eng. feet. Inches. 

Length of the bridge within abutments, 

Breadth within parapets, 

Number of arches, 17. 

Diameter of each of the piers, (16) 

Ditto of each of the 7 centre arches, 

Ditto of each of the 2 side arches, 

Each footpath is broad, 

The road, .... 

The chief difficulty in erecting this bridge was to find 
foundations, The Garonne is from 6 to 10 metres (20 
to 32 feet) deep. The tide rises from 4 to 6 metres 



186-68 


1596 


4 


14-86 


47 


9 


4-21 


13 


10 


26-49 


76 


11 


20-84 


68 


4 


2-50 


8 


2 


9-86 


32 


4 



170 REMAINS, 

(13 to 20 feet) and the descending current with the ebb 
is sometimes above 3 metres a second, (10 feet) the mud 
is of so soft and yielding a kind, that it was necessary for 
each pier to drive about 250 piles of pine from 8 to 1 
metres (26 to 32 feet) deep, These piles were sawn 
over about four metres (13 feet) below low water mark. 
The first layers of stone of the pier were then built in a 
floating flat bottomed trough, which was sunk into its 
place. The diving bell was employed in these man- 
oeuvres. 

It is worth remarking that the Company of Bordeaux 
was the first whose erection was sanctioned by the 
Chambers, which had in view an object of public utility. 
Public spirit does exist in France. 

We were much delighted with our several walks 
through Bordeaux. The transitions from ancient to mo- 
dern are singular. From the bridge and the wide quay, 
alive with an industrious population, clothed in the gay 
colours of the south, it is but a step to narrow and dark 
streets and silent gothic churches, where the burning wax 
lights disclose the sallow penitent on his knees before the 
old stern looking paintings of saints and martyrs. What a 
^contrast in the dress and appearance of the priests, who 
steal along with grave and thoughtful countenances, to the 
blithe expressions of the peasantry and market people. 
From a church we proceed to some avenue or esplanade, 



REMAINS. 171 

where every thing wears a military aspect. From this we 
come upon the remains of the Roman Amphitheatre of 
Gallienus, with its time-worn and time- warring architec- 
ture ; half built, half resting on this venerable ruin, may be 
seen the lighter erections of modern times, white walls 
covered with trellis, and blushing grapes. From the si- 
lence of the Amphitheatre we proceed to rising streets, 
where the masons are engaged in sawing and polishing 
the white stone, and a large marble pedestal stands on a 
fine open space in the heart of the town, awaiting a figure 
of Louis le Desire (Louis XVI.) of 18 feet high. What a 
weight of bronze, if his bulk be represented in proportion. 
It would be of little use to particularize the public 
buildings of Bordeaux. We were in many of the churches, 
which are most of them very handsome, and interesting 
from their antiquity. The spires of the cathedral are 
beautiful, being very light and tapering. This Church 
(St Andrew) was built during the English sovereignty, 
and no doubt the Black Prince has often knelt there. 
There are several churches of even far more ancient date, 
and of a style more approaching to the Saxon, having the 
round arch and smaller windows. Such are St. Croix, said 
to have been built in Charlemagne's reign, and St. Seurin. 
St. Michel's is the most regular of the old gothic churches. 
It is remarkable that the aisles, nave, choir, and tran- 
sept are all of the same height. The church is indeed a 



172 



REMAINS. 



handsome gotliic parallelogram. Near it, but not attached 
to it, is a tower called the Clocher St. Michel, which 
is also of good gothic architecture, but it is remarkable for 
containing below it a cave or vault peculiarly adapted for 
the preservation of dead bodies without decay. I did not 
visit the place, but Dr. M. did. He saw about 80 bodies, 
all above three hundred years old, and in a wonderful 
state of keeping. Features, hair, &c. were quite distin- 
guishable. The skin was in general like parchment. One 
body was pointed out to him as that of a priest who had 
been buried alive. The expression of countenance was 
horrible. The preserving power of this place is probably 
owing to its being within such deep foundations, so totally 
preserved from variation of temperature, and from damp. 
On the sides is the founding wall of the tower, probably 
20 feet thick, and beneath is, they say, a stratum of animal 
matter and human bodies of about 1 5 feet. At present 
they are at little pains to exclude the external air, and such 
is the carelessness of the keeper, — a woman, by the way, 
— that Dr. M. thinks the bodies must now speedily decay. 
Below the church of the Cordeliers at Toulouse, (now 
a magazine of hay) before the Revolution, was a vault 
which contained many bodies in a higher state of pre- 
servation, and of still greater antiquity. A poor youth 
lost his life there shortly before the place was shut up. 
He had betted that he would at midnight drive a nail 



REMAINS. 173 

in the floor . of the middle of the vault, and descended 
with a lantern alone for that purpose. He never re- 
turned. When he was found, it was observed that 
he had inadvertently driven the nail through his own 
cloak, and, on turning away, finding himself withheld, 
imagination had killed him. It was a foolish bet. In 
the church of St. Nicolas, which is also in Toulouse, a 
few bodies were preserved in the porch of a very forbid- 
ding appearance, the skin being dried in such a way as 
to contract the features in a shocking manner. Mauper- 
tuis, who resided there for a year before his death, used 
frequently to visit this sombre place, and to pass an hour or 
two in contemplating these evidences of mortality. His 
friends, true Frenchmen, who did not understand how 
there could be any satisfaction in thinking, especially on 
subjects so grave and momentous, tried every means to 
dissuade him from these melancholy visits. <( Pourquoi," 
said one of them with something of the ribaldry of French 
wit, and wishing to turn into ridicule the sentiments of 
awe which this sight inspired, "pourquoi rient ces morts la" 
(He alluded to the ghastly contraction of the muscles) 
" lis rient de ceux qui vivent," was the solemn reply of 
the philosopher. 

A far more pleasing but less sacred contemplation of 
death, is afforded in the beautiful burying ground of Char- 
treuse, near Bordeaux, whither we walked on the 10th 



1 74 REMAINS. 

October, a beautful day. Our way was through a quiet 
and smiling suburb, where nursery grounds, rich in the 
productions of a southern climate, were around us. A 
few tea-gardens were by the way side, into one of which, 
shaded by richly loaded vines, we stepped to refresh 
ourselves. It was very delightful pulling the fruit from 
the trellis, and to taste it so cool and fresh. We paid 
fifteen pence for an immense quantity, and proceeded on 
our walk. Immediately on entering the precincts of the 
Chartreuse, we felt the quiet calm influence of the place. 
It is entirely surrounded with, and divided by avenues of 
sycamores of a fresh shady green, and in the centre, cy- 
presses, weeping willows, yew trees, &c. of various ages 
and sizes, point out the tombs of the aged and the young. 
This cemetery has been only established about thirty years, 
and already contains about 100,000 bodies. The tombs 
have not in general much pretension, and are of a decid- 
edly better architecture than in Scotland. Sarcophagi 
massively executed are the most common. The simple 
turf is the most pleasing tomb, and when strewn with 
fresh flowers, as we saw many here, the most certain mark 
of affection. A few graves had glass cases upon them, 
containing in a more French taste, bouquets of artificial 
flowers, and sometimes a few verses by a brother or child 
of the deceased. Some of these were not without sim- 
plicity, therefore beauty. Hundreds of lizards were sport- 



REMAINS. 175 

iiig on the tombs, a good proof of the mildness of the 
climate (10th October.) We enjoyed this walk very 
much. On our way home we purchased some medlars 
(nefles,) which Elizabeth found nearly as good as spoilt 
pears. 

We enjoyed very much while in Bordeaux our incog- 
nito, walking about when and where we chose, and fre- 
quently buying grapes, &c. in the streets. We were per- 
fectly indifferent to the stare of the French public, being 
entirely unknown to them, and enjoyed ourselves in being 
most delightfully vulgar, in looking into the windows of 
book shops and others, and stopping in the street to con- 
sider every thing new and interesting. 

Private houses appear to be remarkably handsome and 
large in Bordeaux. We saw no interior, excepting a part 
of one in the suburb of the Chartreuse, belonging to an 
English merchant, to whom we had introductions. At 
this season, however, the inhabitants of the higher classes 
are in the country, not from a taste for its beauties, for 
there are very few Frenchmen who have any, — who can 
even imagine life tolerable out of town,- — but for the sake 
of superintending the vintages. Of society in Bordeaux 
we could learn little. It appears that all the men meet 
at clubs to spend their evenings, and the ladies are left 
very much to themselves. 

We all enjoyed the luxury of a warm bath after our 



176 BEMAINS. 

sea voyage. We went to a new establishment of this 
kind, which was very inferior to the Edinburgh Infirmary 
hot-baths, but much cheaper. A Cafe was attached to 
the establishment, as also a stock of cosmetics, &c. in 
which last the French certainly excel us. The variety 
of their soaps, oils, waters, &c. for beautifying the person 
is amazing. Indeed this art seems to be that which is 
most studied in this country. In a puff which was wrap- 
ped round apiece of soap I purchased, mention was made 
of some sovereign dye for hair, and the eloquent writer 
used these words, " Celui qui la veille portait la neige, 
peut le lendemain, s' il le veut, recommencer son prin- 
temps." We found but few book shops in Bordeaux, and 
but one place where we could get maps ; there we ad- 
mired some of the beautiful maps of Brue. 

The theatre we only know from its exterior, which is 
splendid. It has necessarily a very high roof, which 
is not visible, however, from its front, as there are build- 
ings opposite at no great distance ; twelve handsome 
statues decorate the pedestals on the terrace. This 
theatre is from a design of Louis ; it cost three millions 
of francs, and was three years in building ; it was finished 
in 1780, and is the handsomest building of the kind as 
to its exterior, in the world. 

Bordeaux is interesting from its antiquities, but how 
much more so might it have been ! The old amphitheatre 



REMAINS. 177 

of Gallienus has been shamefully used, and although 
still distinguishable, terribly spoilt by mean modern 
buildings; — the fountain of Divona, sung by Ausonius, 
is no more ; — the fine Gothic tower of Payberlau, which, 
from the drawings that exist, must have been a splendid 
thing, is now utterly destroyed, the windows blocked up 
with rough stone, and the building used as a shot manu- 
factory. There is here very little love of antiquities. 
The tower of St. Michael, another magnificent Gothic 
work, has been allowed to fall much into decay — some 
100 feet of the spire have fallen, and, instead of restor- 
ing, the French put up a telegraph on the remainder. It 
appears to me (with my little experience) one of the 
most striking traits of the French character — their utter 
carelessness, and contempt of every thing that is old, and 
their admiration and blind praise of every thing new. 
Religion, institutions, and buildings, — every thing, in 
short, is tried by the test of fashion — Novelty. An 
Englishman would walk with reverence and love through 
York or Chester, and would kneel in Westminster Abbey ; 
a Frenchman inquires, in Nismes or Aries, only for the 
theatres, and goes to Notre Dame as seldom as may be. 
I have spoken of the view of the city from the north- 
east : I had unluckily no opportunity of seeing this view, 
as my health would not admit my going so far. From 
the relative positions, however, I have some idea what 

M 



178 REMAINS. 

it must be, and that it must deserve the eulogium given 
it by Jouy, " II n'y a aucune (ville) en Europe (Con- 
stantinople excepte) dont 1' aspect en arrivant par la 
Bastide soit d' un effet plus magique, et presente une dis- 
position plus imposante." M. Jouannet thus describes 
this view : — " Voyez au dela des pres, des vignes, et des 
bois et la vallee, ce fleuve couverte d' une foret de mats, 
tous les quais hordes d' une longue suite des facades que 
dominent sur les plans differents, le grand theatre, I' eglise 
gothique de St. Michel, les fleches legeres de St. Andre, 
les clochers mutiles de Pay Berland, et de Ste. Eulalie. 
Contemple le matin au lever du soleil, lorsque sur plus 
d' une lieue de rivage d' innombrables vitraux reflechissent 
les premiers feusde jour, figurez vous cet arc immense, 
tout etincelant des lumieres, formant alors le plus riche, 
le plus brillant tableau, qu'une cite embellie par les mains 
du pouvoir et des arts, puisse offrir aux regards de 
1' liomme." 

Since this time, the bridge adds a new and splendid 
feature to this magnificent view. 

Voiturin Travelling. 

Bordeaux to Toulouse, Oct. 11-16, 1829.— -The Place 
St. Julien, at Bordeaux, is the rendezvous of the voituriers 
of Toulouse, and thither Dr. Menzies went to find some 



REMAINS. 179 

of them. He brought us a very decent civil man, whose 
politeness was a little French, however, as he told us 
he preferred very much being of service to foreigners 
than to his own countrymen. He agreed with us, how- 
ever, as to terms, (App. p. 1.) 240 francs, which was 
cheap. To get on faster, he took our baggage, on the 
10th, to Langon, a distance of about 25 miles up the 
river, and on the 11th we followed him by the steam- 
boat. I coughed a good deal that morning, from unusual 
early rising, as the steam-boat left the quay at 6. The 
morning felt very cold and was misty, the banks of the 
river were rarely visible. 

The crowd on board the boat was at first immense, 
there was only room to stand. It being Sunday, an 
amazing number of people were getting out to the coun- 
try to enjoy themselves. At each village we passed, we 
put on shore a detachment, so that, when we arrived at 
Langon, we were but a small crew. The country we had 
passed is highly beautiful. At Langon we landed, and 
found our voiturier. We heard of our travelling com- 
panions, the Fortescues, here also, who kept up with us 
all the way to Toulouse. 

The journey occupied us five and a half days, and was 
very pleasant upon the whole. Such a mode of travel- 
ling, however, has its disadvantages ; the chief one being 
the slowness. We were obliged to rise betimes in the 



180 REMAINS, 

morning, when it was generally very cold, and we were 
late of getting to our station for the night. It would be 
more advisable for an invalid in France, to buy a car- 
riage and travel with post-horses, in which case he would 
get on much faster, in less time, and not be exposed to 
the depression of temperature in the mornings and even- 
ings. About mid-day, the weather generally became 
very hot, and continued so until sun-set, when it cooled 
very rapidly. We could not use our thermometer, but 
from observations at Toulouse, we found that the varia- 
tions in temperature, from the heat of the sun, in one day, 
are frequently very great. (See register of weather, in 
Appendix to MS. Journal.) 

Our road between Bordeaux and Toulouse was near 
the banks of the Garonne, and of great beauty. The 
country is almost all in vineyard on the rising slope from 
the river, and quite studded with pretty towns and 
bourgs. As for villages in the English acceptation, or 
cottages, they scarcely exist, even here, although this is 
one of the best peopled parts of France. The whole 
country wore a very smiling appearance, but we saw 
nothing of that joyous hilarity which is said to accompany 
the vintage. We frequently stopped to purchase or pull 
grapes, which grow in the hedgerows, in the few places 
where there are hedges; where we bought them the 
price was about a halfpenny a pound, but they were sold 



REMAINS. 181 

by guess., without weight. The richest country we passed 
through was that about Agen, in the department of the 
Lot and Garonne. It is really a land of abundance. In 
a country of so much natural beauty in England, we 
should have had an endless succession of smiling cottages 
and beautiful seats, showing all the substantial comforts 
of our own country. The roads would have been shaded 
by ancient trees — the towns clean and handsomely paved, 
and a busy population moving along. Here, however, 
were no cottages, the Chateaux had almost all a deserted 
appearance, very few of them were inhabited, and many 
are falling to ruins* Two or three country houses were 
in the course of building ; they were, in general, formal 
looking houses, with small Dutch gardens. In the whole 
journey, we did not see ten fine trees, nor did we, even 
in those towns which looked so beautiful, ever get on 
good pavement, or see cleanliness. 

The Garonne is a fine river, but too rapid for the pur- 
poses of navigation. It is wonderful how the steamer 
makes head against so tremendous a current. Toulouse 
is about 300 or 400 feet above the sea, and it is a severe 
labour to force up barges to that place. This is, how- 
ever, the entrance of the boasted French Canal, which 
the French think the finest in the world. At Toulouse, 
excepting after rains, the river is of a beautiful transpa- 



182 REMAINS. 

rent green, but at every point that we saw it, below that 
city, it was very muddy. 

The inns on the road are tolerable, always abundance 
of clean linen and clean beds. On the other hand, one 
seldom finds a comfortable room, or a fire ready lighted 
to receive the traveller. Bells are unknown, and it is a 
great pest to have to call out constantly. The lighting 
of a fire, and the preparing a tolerable dinner or supper, 
for there is nothing in the house excepting what is ne- 
cessary for the family, and every thing must be sought 
for, occupies an hour and a half, or two hours. To an 
invalid, it is a trying thing to sit in a cold room for two 
hours in the bustle of preparation. As to charges, they 
are infamous. I shall not again travel in France without 
bargaining, beforehand, at every inn, for a people so 
totally ignorant of common honesty, I never saw — they 
take every advantage of travellers, and consider evidently 
how far they may venture to pluck them. The Duchess 
de Berri, who has been lately in the south of France, 
and is the most popular of the Royal Family, did not 
escape the imposition of the inn-keepers. She was every 
where received, as the papers say, with enthusiasm, but 
this did not prevent her, and her suite, being charged 
2400 francs for dinner for five persons ! and 700 francs 
for breakfast ! Her Grace, " irritee de ces demandes," 



REMAINS. 183 

payed half the money, with which the rogues thought 
themselves well off, I dare say. At one place, " Castel 
Sarasin," where we breakfasted, we were so infamously 
used, that we applied to the authorities. The Maire, 
however, and two of his adjuncts, were in the country, 
and the third was ill. We left a written statement of 
our case, but do not know what success it had. 

At Malauze, a village not far from the union of the 
Teon and Garonne, we had a pleasant evening, and 
something like hearty welcome. The host was a Ger- 
man, and had been wounded in several campaigns under 
Napoleon ; as he was suffering, Dr. Menzies prescribed 
for him. At this place, also, I was disagreeably sur- 
prised to find that I spit blood in considerable quantity ; 
this I attributed to the difficulty of speaking in a carriage, 
and I, therefore, kept very quiet afterwards. However, 
I perceived that it would be far the more advisable thing 
to cease travelling, which was not without many incon- 
veniences, and this was the chief reason of the great 
alteration in our plans, which made us fix for the winter 
at Toulouse. 

We arrived at that ancient city on the 15th October, 
and were very glad to get into a comfortable hotel, 
(Baichere,) where we spent about ten days looking for 
lodgings in the town. 

I ought to have given a description of our hotel in 



184 EEMAINS. 

Bordeaux, as there is much that differs from a good 
English hotel. — The Hotel Marin ranks as one of the 
best in Bordeaux. It consists of six storeys, which are 
named Rez de Chaussee or ground floor, Entresol, a storey 
stolen from the roof of the former, and a very low roofed 
one therefore. The third storey is called le Premier, and 
so on. We occupied a tolerable sitting room, although 
tiled and uncarpeted, on the ground floor, and three 
good timber-floored bed rooms, au troisieme, fifth flat. 
For this we paid 9 francs per day, — not much. We had 
a stove in our sitting room, the chimney of which was 
out of order, " as it was not cold enough yet for fires ; " 
this chimney had to be repaired for us. The French are 
not in a hurry to put things in order before they are 
wanted. The stairs and passages of this hotel were 
scarcely four feet wide ; I have no doubt the furniture 
must have been slung up to the upper storeys. A miser- 
able iron railing accorded with the stair. As for conve- 
niences, this hotel was shockingly supplied. We break- 
fasted always on coffee, which was excellent, but we 
had some difficulty in teaching the folks to give it in 
sufficient quantity, as the French take commonly but a 
single cup, and make up their breakfast by such hetero- 
geneous articles as we had at Pauillac. We dined 
always a la carte, writing out from the bill of fare what 
dishes we wanted, and in what quantity, for every thing 



REMAINS. 185 

is meted out with great exactness ; we generally ordered 
dishes for three, and found this quite enough for five, 
when there were several dishes. The kitchen of this 
inn was to us a curiosity ; there were ahout thirty char- 
coal fires in the brick dresser, and the maitre d'hotel 
used to call in what dishes were wanted, and at what 
hour ; immediately the cooks are in full activity, boiling, 
and frying, and stewing in their earthenware pots. Until 
I saw this kitchen, I was puzzled to think how the 
French tables managed to produce such an amazing 
variety of dishes : half-a-dozen dishes, with bread and 
wine ad libitum, used to cost us about 3 francs, or 2s. 6d. 
a-head. But so exact were the calculations of what we 
eat and drank, that the price of our breakfast varied 
some centimes every day, from the number of eggs, &c. we 
ordered. Upon the whole, this appeared to me a wel 
kept house, and very moderate. Attendance was very 
inferior to that of an English inn, and bells were none ; 
it is customary, and guests are even requested to keep 
their room locked, and to leave the key, when out, with 
the portiere, who has a key-room in the Entresol ; this 
key is put into your hands again when you come in. 

I purchased in Bordeaux the works of Montesquieu, 
the greatest man it has produced. Montaigne was born 
about ten leagues from the same city, and the orator 
Vergniaud was another of its citizens. How much I 



i 86 REMAINS. 

have been struck with the prophetic tone of Montesquieu's 
writings relative to French politics. One can almost 
trace the events of the Revolution in his pages. 

Toulouse. 

The French tell you that Toulouse is a very large and 
very ill built town, with crooked and narrow streets, few 
good buildings, and, altogether, very disagreeable to 
inhabit. They have, as I before observed, no taste for 
antiquity. In my eyes, after nearly three months' resi- 
dence, I find it a very interesting city, much decayed 
from its former splendour, but still possessed of fine 
buildings, picturesque streets, handsome quays, and a 
noble river. 

My first walks in Toulouse interested me much. I 
found none of the modern beauty of Bordeaux, few 
Greek elevations of houses, no new public buildings, and 
no imposing streets,, but fine old Saxon spires on some 
of the churches, with their rows of arches placed circu- 
larly one above another, old Moorish-looking towers, 
almost flat roofed, round the ancient rampart, and, alto- 
gether, a sombre and melancholy air, which contrasts 
strangely with the climate. In almost every street rills 
of water entertain an agreeable coolness, to which their 
tortuous nature and the height of the old houses contribute, 



REMAINS. 187 

by excluding the sun. Many of the streets are almost . 
silent, for the city is by no means peopled in proportion 
to its extent, but others are crowded with the wares 
(chiefly comestibles,) of the shops and stalls, and the 
busy buyers and loud sellers. Toulouse has long been 
famous for good cheer, certainly its markets are wonderful 
for their supply and variety. 

On gaining the bridge over the Garonne, a new and 
beautiful prospect opens ; a wide and clear river, notwith- 
standing the green hue of its waters, floats gently by, 
and breaks over its last dam just below the city. The 
quays are not busy, excepting with the mob of washer- 
women, whose gay coloured dresses, strength, and acti- 
vity, form a pleasing picture. Above the bridge, tree- 
covered islands of a refreshing green contrast with the 
bright red tile roofs, and, beyond the heights of Pech 
David, arise the magnificent Pyrenees. I had never 
before seen mountains worthy the name, for, alas ! Ben- 
lomond, Skiddaw, and Snowdon, beautiful as they are, 
are of a far inferior order, and I was wonderfully impressed 
with this vast rampart of inaccessible snowy peaks, which 
appear so sublime at a distance of 70 miles. It is true 
the angle of their elevation was very slight, scarcely 
exceeding that of the height to the south of the city, 
but there was a something in the strange faintness and 
yet perfect distinctness of the outline of the Tyrenees 



188 REMAINS. 

which at once showed their real majesty. We often 
afterwards returned to the bridge for the purpose of 
contemplating the mighty range, and usually walked, 
whenever the weather was clear, to some point whence 
we could discern it. 

At Bordeaux, the authorities, by a very excellent 
institution, have succeeded in putting down begging. 
At Toulouse the fraternity appears to be very numerous 
and extremely eloquent. The number who pass our 
present abode, Rue Perchepinte, is extraordinary. In 
the morning, a blind man and his wife, a most ragged 
couple, led by an active poodle, stagger on, shouting one 
of the most unmusical songs I ever heard, and as regularly 
as breakfast comes round ; another rogue is mounted on 
a donkey; a third drawn by a great Danish dog in a little 
cart ; a fourth, who has lost his legs, moves about, swing- 
ing between his supporting hands in a great wooden 
bowl; in the rue des Nobles a youth takes his regular 
station in a camp bed and apostrophises every person 
with " personnes charitables!" and " personne est chari- 
table." The church doors are besieged by the whole 
tribe, palsied, maimed, and blind, on all fetes, as devotion 
opens the purse strings. All this is very like the de- 
scriptions we have of a Spanish town, and the resemblance 
is increased by the number of priests and monks, the 
general use of the cloak, and the religious appearance of 



REMAINS. 189 

the people. The cries of the streets are numerous., and 
generally most unmusical, from the gruff cry of " decrot- 
teur" which comes from the mouth of a fustian encased 
fellow who bears about with him his little tripod and a 
box with his brushes and blacking, to that of " para- 
pluies," which one always hears when there is no rain, 
— and the most melancholy story, which ends with the 
word " castagnas." 

The place du Capitole is the centre of the gaiety of 
Toulouse. It is a curious sight in the evening to see 
the number of stalls, where bonbons, hardware, books, 
&c. &c. are sold by most active shopmen. They burn 
candles under oiled paper, and the number of lights has 
a pretty effect. The stalls are ranged in rows, having 
a walk between them for the customers. These shops 
have often a prixfixe, and one hears the inviting calls of 
onze sous ! dix-neuf sous et demil vingt-trois sous et demi! 
which are the prices of every article at the respective 
booths. I purchased for 19 sous a wooden fork and 
spoon for salad, which I had seen on the 29 sous stall, 
but I did not make a very good bargain, for I afterwards 
saw the same articles at quatorze sous et demi. In 
November, maps and prints were selling ; they were 
lying on the ground, and that is no bad account of the 
climate. 

The churches of Toulouse are very numerous, or rather 



190 REMAINS. 

were so, for of G2 or 63 which existed before the 
Revolution, only ten are now devoted to religious pur- 
poses, the others having been converted into magazines, 
barracks, &c. The Cathedral is an irregular building, 
the quoir quite beautiful. The east end is circular, and 
the aisles meet there. They contain many beautiful 
chapels, and are of the finest Gothic architecture. The 
nave of this church was begun to be built while the 
Crusaders besieged the city on account of the heretical 
principles of Raymond VI., and the vast plan has evi- 
dently been altered in consequence, so that, by the nave 
being narrowed, it does not occupy the front of the 
quoir. This irregularity hurts the building very much. 
The Cathedral is dedicated to St. Stephen, We heard 
there a fine Te Deum, performed under the auspices of 
the Archbishop, on St. Charles' day. The church of St. 
Saturninus is the most perfect of all. It dates from the 
eighth or ninth century, and the architecture is Saxon. 
It is in the form of a long cross ; and the interior has 
a fine effect from the very high and simple arches 
which form the roof. This church is one of the richest 
in relics which can be seen in France. The catalogue 
is immense and incredible. Francis the I., during his 
captivity at Madrid, vowed an offering to these relics, 
which was afterwards performed. An inscription to this 
effect exists in the church, together with this line, which 



REMAINS. 191 

is founded on the numerous relics the church contains : 
" Non est in toto sanctior orbe locus." 

It is not the less holy that it contains the body of poor 
Montmorency, who was drawn into a revolt against Louis 
XIIL, and whom that bloody monarch would not pardon. 
When his life was begged by all his courtiers, at the 
time he was being led to execution, the King said im- 
patiently : — " II faut qu'il meure : allez lui dire que 
toute la grace que je puis lui faire, c'est que le bourreau 
ne le touchera point, qu'il ne lui mettra point la corde 
sur les epaules et qu'il ne fera que lui couper le cou." 
Such was the son of Henri IV.. and such has been the 
character of most of the French monarchs. This church 
has a very handsome spire — the only one in Toulouse 
that deserves that epithet, for they are in general un- 
meaning masses of brick — which put me in mind of many 
of the towers in Holland and the north of Germany. By 
the way, there is another good spire in the suburb of 
St. Cyprian. 

There is some beautiful carving on some of the old 
fronts of houses. One in the Rue de la Dalbade, in 
particular, is very handsome. It has a large front of 
stone most richy decorated, and I regret I can find or 
take no drawing of it. The interior court of the hotel 
is unworthy of the front, which is the handsomest for a 



192 REMAINS. 

private house I ever saw. The French appear to be 
quite unaware of the ancient beauties about them, and are 
far more interested with the erection of a paltry modern 
house. Inquire as I would, I have not been able to 
learn any thing of the history of this hotel, which I think 
must have belonged to some distinguished person or 
body. There are many fine door-ways and carvings 
scattered about the deserted parts of the town. 

The church and cloisters of the Augustine monks 
have been converted to a worthier purpose than a bar- 
rack or granary. They now serve as the Museum and 
Gallery of Antiques. They are both highly respectable, 
although they both contain some great trash. The 
Museum musters one Raphael, a woman's head ; and is 
very poor in works of the Italian School, although it has 
many copies. There are some Dutch and Flemish pic- 
tures ; and the great mass is of the French School. One 
N. Poussin, fair, and some good pictures of Mignard and 
Champaigne, which last, by the by, is no Frenchman, 
being a Brusselsman. Of the modern French School are 
some delightfully ludicrous specimens. A picture of 
Alexander and Bucephalus is beautifully absurd in per- 
spective, design, and, above all, colouring. Its preten- 
sion and attempt at greatness are tickling, and have 
made us all laugh. Of the same cast is a painting of 
Vignes, a new artist, representing Csesar in a boat of 



REMAINS. 193 

about 1 feet long on the Adriatic, with a grey-headed 
and grey-bearded pilot, and horror-struck sailor. The 
boat ingeniously dips into the water on the wind-ward 
side, despite of a beautiful sail, which is filled with a 
good breeze. Csssar is standing proudly, and although his 
immense scarlet toga is so gracefully wrapped round him, 
that he cannot possibly see the pilot, he is addressing 
him in a choice theatrical attitude. The preposterous 
colouring of the French pictures immediately struck me, 
they are dyed like their silks and cottons. 

Toulouse, 4th December, 1829. — I have often heard 
it said that there is little crime in France compared with 
England ; I suspect this idea arises from the great pub- 
licity given to it with us, and from the contrary practice 
here. Not long ago there was a dreadful case of parri- 
cide in the department of the Gers, and to-day I observe 
one in the department of the Ain. The latter is so 
singular as to be worth noting: — 

M. Bouvier Salazar was an avoue of Bourg, who had 
retired with a considerable fortune. His only daughter, 
Josephine, was married to M. A., (the name, out of 
respect to the feelings of the husband, is left blank.) 
The young couple were in the habit of spending the 
Autumn at the old man's country-house, two leagues 
from Bourg, and they were all there in September 1822. 

Josephine went to Bourg in the beginning of that 



194 REMAINS. 

month to purchase arsenic to kill rats, which were eating 
the linen in her press ; the apothecary refused to furnish 
it. She returned with her husband on 7th September, and 
under his signature it was obtained. She next prevailed 
on Bouvier to give an entertainment fixed for the 16th. 
On the previous evening she asked the cook, Marie 
Michol, to make ready some bread soup (pain cuit,) for 
her father's breakfast; this was done, and Marie saw 
her mistress holding a paper under her arm near the 
closet where the soup was placed. At ten, Bouvier 
called for breakfast, Marie emptied the soup from the 
pan into the plate, and she herself partook of the scum 
and of what remained in the pot ; she was soon attacked 
with violent cholic and disposition to vomit ; Josephine, 
on hearing her cries, asked her what was the matter, and 
whether she had eaten of her father's soup ? 

Bouvier himself was seized with the same symptoms. 
At noon he asked for a physician, who declared he was 
labouring under cholera morbus and indigestion, and the 
prescriptions of the physician were not obeyed. On the 
1 2th Bouvier died. — Marie recovered. 

The will was suppressed by arrangements made with 
Marie and other legatees. Marie's legacy was 4000 
francs, payable in five years ; instead of this she received 
bills to the amount of 6000, payable in nine or ten years, 
with interest. Marie, however, was resolved to have 



REMAINS. 195 

her original legacy also, if she could, and, at the end of 
six years, she began to prosecute Josephine for that sum. 
Josephine, who had become quite secure after so long a 
lapse of time, refused it, and Marie then made a disclosure 
to justice. Josephine fled and could not be found. 

The trial went on, and she was found guilty and sen- 
tenced to death, ordered to be led to the scaffold in her 
shift, bare-foot, and her head covered with a black veil, 
her right hand to be cut off, and then guillotined. 

It appears certain that, if the above crime took place, 
the husband was implicated ; he was present at the 
purchase of the arsenic, at the illness and death of his 
father-in-law, and instrumental in bribing the cook. 
The cook herself, on whose evidence chiefly the con- 
demnation rests, is a completely detestable character. 

How comes it that no discovery was made of this 
crime at the time? Surely the apothecary, physicians, 
(there were two,) and neighbours, could have given evi- 
dence. And how comes it, that, on the accusation being 
received, the criminal was suffered to escape, instead of 
being instantly taken into custody? Altogether, this 
trial is little creditable to the French criminal law, and 
less so to the morals of a people, of whom, one, a woman 
in the better circles, and possessed of education as this 
was, could murder an old man and a. father to obtain his 
property a few years sooner. 



I9G REMAINS. 



A WIFE'S LOVE. 



Against the bloody Emperor,, 

Sabinus drew his sword, 
Ambition was his bosom's king, 

And Freedom was his word. 
" Fight not, fight not/' said Epouine, 

" Thou wilt not happier be 
In purple on the Roman throne, 

Than here in peace with me." 

He fought, and Fortune warred with him, 

His scattered legions fled, 
And he, a wandering outlaw, had 

A speedy death to dread. 
That morn, a prince, he sallied forth, 

To mount the Roman throne, 
That eve he to his palace crept, 

An outlaw and alone. 

<c Burn, burn thy halls," said Eponine, 
" And I the tale will spread, 






REMAINS. 197 

That in the flames despair had lit, 

My wretched lord is dead : 
Then in the cave heneath the tower., 

Thou safe shalt live with me, 
In purple on the Konian throne 

Thou couldst not happier be. 

He fired the halls,, and left the sun 

To live within a grave,, 
'Stead of the stately Palatine, 

A dark and dismal cave. 
No sound of earth struck on his ear, 

No sight upon his eyes, 
Yet love and Eponine could make 

That cave a paradise. 

And she the faithful and the true, 

Toiled for their daily food, 
And cheered, by every art of love, 

His deathlike solitude. 
And children twain, most fair to see, 

Within the cave she bore, 
Who taught their father happiness 

He never knew before. 

And thus for nine long years they lived, 
Till thinking danger o'er, 



198 REMAINS. 

Once more he looked upon the earth,, 

And on the sun once more. 
Unknown, my Eponine, he said, 

Let us poor peasants be, 
Less blest in grandeur I would live, 

Than here with these and thee. 

Alas ! accursed envy lives 

As long as woman's love ; 
Alas ! a tyrant's clemency, 

'Tis hard, most hard, to move. 
The chief, though changed by misery, 

A hireling soldier knew ; 
The chief, his children, and his wife, 

A bloody monarch slew. 

Toulouse, 6th December, 1829. 

The above is taken from the story of Sabinus, as 
related by Anquetil in his history of France. What a 
foul stain to Vespasian is the condemnation of such a 
family. 

Heard that the body of a Scotch lady, which the 
fanaticism of the Bigorrais will not allow to rest in peace, 
has arrived here to undergo a second interment in the 
Protestant Cemetery. 

7th Dec. — Snow to-day. A great change of climate. — 



REMAINS. 199 

None of us went out. Engaged reading Montesquieu 
and History of France ; begun a sketch on that subject. 

In the paper to-day is an account of a trial of the 
gerants responsables of the France Meridionale, a Toulouse 
journal. They had published an article against Polignac's 
Ministry, (very unpopular at present,) on the occasion of 
his becoming President of the Council : — a En Tan 1 2" 
the article goes on, " les successeurs de Pitt nous expe- 
diaient le conspirateur, et qu'en Tan 1829 Wellington 
nous gratifie de ministre." And afterwards, " La nation 
doit savoir le cas que Ton fait de ses trop legitimes anti- 
pathies. Son tour viendra peut-etre, et elle pourra mettre 
a profit ces amers souvenirs. 

The Procureur de Roi attempts to make a grave 
case out of this party declamation. There is little elo- 
quence or good sense in his or the defender's speeches. 
They were tried under the law of 25th March, 1822, 
directed against " excitation a la heine et au mepris du 
gouvernement du Roi," and found guilty. The number 
of the journal is suppressed, the two gerants fined 300 
francs, and, what is worst, imprisoned for three months. 

It is a hard enough sentence for such an offence, and 
shews a weakness in the government, or a too great wil- 
lingness to display their power in its underlings. 

9th Dec— Went out to look for a Caesar to-day to 
assist me in writing on Ancient Gaul ; picked up one, a 



200 REMAINS. 

Toulouse edition, for 12 sous. M. Casse, the bookseller,, 
has a circulating library, rich in novels ; while I was 
there, a lady with her servant came in, and, after some 
prelude, the lady said, " avez vous quelque chose de 
nouveau qu'on puisse lire tout haut, qui soit decent ? " I 
was astonished by the answer, " non, madame, je ne le 
crois pas avoir." The servant suggested a book, but 
the lady observed, " Fi done, Dieu m'en garde." A pretty 
account of modern French novels ! 

Beware, all ye who visit France, of stealing white 
beans. A poor fellow in the department of the Gers, 
was sentenced the other day, for taking a small quantity, 
to the carcan and five years of forced labour. How do 
the French thieves learn their trade if experience is so 
dear ? 

15th Dec. (Tuesday.) — On Saturday, 12th, went to 
the Royal Foundry to see cannon cast; a good many 
people present. The metal was brass, melted in a large 
furnace ; it was stirred by wooden poles, iron ones would, 
I suppose, have alloyed the metal; the wood burned 
very fast, and the charcoal floated on the surface. The 
metal was proved by expansion. There were eight 
moulds for the cannon, cast iron cylinders above a dozen 
feet long and 1^ in diameter, likely. The clay oven for 
the metal was in the middle of four cylinders on each 
side, the four nearest the 'furnace were first filled with 



REMAINS. 201 

the metal; and then the others ; there was scarcely enough 
of metal. We were told that the metal would take 
eight days to cool ; it had then to be turned and bored 
for cannon. 

The weather improved to-day much, after ten days of 
fog and cold. 

Sunday, 13th.— Had a walk in the Grande Allee, 
On our return, went into St. Stephens, and found a ser- 
mon was to be preached at four and a benediction said 
at five. We returned to the church after dinner. It 
was divided, one end for women and the other for men ; 
the former were by far the most numerous ; probably 
3000 people in church. The sermon appeared re- 
spectable, the singing was partly beautiful, partly very 
poor. After a fine hymn, admirably sung and universally 
chorussed, we had another to the air of " Ma Fanckette 
est charmante." The audience were very musical, more 
so than devout, although many held out their chaplets 
for the sprinkling of the holy water. What is indulgence 
pleniere ? here it was granted for two months. 

Monday, Dec. 14. — Went to-day to the Palais de 
Justice, we arrived just in time, while the indictment 
was being read. The case was rather interesting ; the 
accused, a woman servant at a Cafe, and now charged 
with two offences, one, stealing 1 00 francs, more or less, 
from the wallet of a traveller, the other, appropriating 



202 REMAINS. 

an umbrella. The prisoner was guarded by gens d'armes. 
She spoke a great deal in her own defence, and criminated 
herself fast enough. There are five Judges ; the Presi- 
dent had an evident penchant for the crown side, he 
examines the witnesses and the prisoner, who has little 
commiseration or advantage. 

A respectable jury were impanelled, they were pro- 
vided with writing materials. The prisoner was asked 
by the President what she had to say in her defence, 
and answered at great length. Witnesses were called, 
who, instead of being examined by the king and priso- 
ner's counsel, were sworn by the President without cross 
or book, and told to say all they knew on the subject. 
They generally inflicted a most desultory story, upon the 
jury and audience. I can answer for all but one who 
spoke patois. After finishing their tales, they sat down 
amongst the audience, and not unfrequently were after- 
wards examined. This is a sad mismanagement. I 
never before saw a court with so little pretension to dig- 
nity. The judge and officer of court, sometimes bandied 
words. When the bench deliberated it was in private. 
The cause occupied above three hours ; the prisoner was 
found guilty of both offences, and sentenced to five years 
imprisonment, pillory, and caution for future good con- 
duct. The business would have been better done in 
England in half an hour. 






REMAINS. 203 

On onr return home, I mentioned the cause to our 
servant, who declaimed loudly against domestic theft, 
and stole a pair of logs of wood from us in the evening. 
We arc to part with her. 

Wednesday, Dec. 16. — Yesterday we were again at the 
Palais de Justice: the same carelessness in locking up wit- 
nesses, and keeping the jury from mixing with the public, 
A case of forgery, half gone through, very slow. We 
dismissed our servant to-day, much to her astonishment. 
She showed herself of her own accord to us, that we 
might see she carried off nothing. Would an honest 
woman have thought of such a thing ? We have become 
great readers for some time, and have got through Ma- 
dame de Genlis' book, " Le siege de la Rochelle," and 
her " Soupers de la Marechelle de Luxembourg," both 
books redolent of the authoress' vanity and prejudices. 
The ancien regime, under the old ladies, must have been 
a very tiresome business, by her own showing ; but I 
suppose the reality was much superior to her feeble de- 
scriptions. What a spite the hag has to Voltaire. Le 
Siege pourtrays one of her religious heroines, who is 
placed in the most impossible situations, and is meant to 
behave in the most sublime manner. We are reading 
Jouy's works, of which I shall say something in a few 
days, as also Count Segur's Souvenirs. 

Friday, Dec. 18. — Read the Cid to-day, for the first time. 



204 REMAINS. 

The same regularity and formality with most French tra- 
gedies., — all narrative and no action. The Cid was a hero ; 
in the play he tells us so. The rules of the dramatic 
art are observed in France with surprising strictness. 
Their non-observance, by the English tragedians, gives 
rise to inventions and scenes unequalled by any other 
people. The French hero has the robes and colours of 
a painting — the English, some of the coarseness, and all 
the vigour and warmth of reality. In the Cid, there is 
much poetry. Seven young men were arrested at the 
theatre to-day, for hissing one of the actors, Madame 
Pouilly. Such a measure would savour too much of the 
power of the executive at Covent Garden. 

Sunday, Dec. 20. — Still cold weather, but occasional 
sunshine. Went to the reading-room to-day. little news in 
Galignani's paper. In the Revue Encgclopedique, I was 
amused with an article on British Military Education. 
The preamble was in the true French universal style, a 
regular vole au vent. The Reviewer took a cursory view of 
Britain, in about half a page, in which he asserted that 
France had gone far before her in many respects. For 
instance, says he, to give to France now the English 
Constitution, would be telling her to retrograde in govern- 
ment and civilization, and make her lose the benefit of 
fifteen years' struggles for freedom. French freedom 
makes one shudder : her history is, as yet, but a com- 






REMAINS. 205 

pound of polite despotism, and tiger-like anarchy. Now 
she is advanced to the administration of the Walpoles, 
but she is still a hundred years from the patriot spirit of 
a Pitt. 

I have been re-reading the Cid, and am so far recon- 
ciled to it. The French think it the chef d' ceuvre of 
tragedy, at least of their own. I confess I do not see 
the peculiar beauty in the subject, and the souflet, though 
a matter of history, is ridiculous. Corneille's majesty 
does all that is possible to bear out the gasconade of Don 
Diegue and Rodrique, and the two duellists go about 
their work with sufficient politeness. It accords ill with 
the high wrought Spanish honour, however, that Chimene 
should appear to consent to a union with the slayer of 
her father ; she should have forgiven him, and retired, for 
ever, from the world. 

There is amazing spirit in some parts of Corneille, 
notwithstanding the monotonous nature of the rhymed 
Alexandrines. When Don Diegue instructs his son of 
the insult he has received : — 

D. Diegue. 
Rodrigue, as tu du coeur ? 

D. Rodrigue. 

Tout autre que mon pere 
L' eprouvcrait sur Phcure. 



20G REMAINS, 

D. DlEGUE. 

Agreable colere ! 
Digne ressentiment, a ma douleur bien doux ! 
Je reconnois mon sang a ce noble courroux ; 
Ma jeunesse revit en cette arcleur si prompte ! 
Viens mon fils, viens mon sang, viens, repare ma honte, — 
Viens me venger ! 

D. Rodrigue. 
De quoi. 
D. Diegue. 

D'un affront si cruel, 
Qu'a l'lionneur de nous deux il porte un coup mortcl, — 
D'un soufflet. 

This unlucky soufflet spoils all. The man who gives 
vent to his passions in rhymed numbers, cannot permit 
himself the natural expressions, the striking homeliness 
of our easy English blank verse, which varies its cadences 
at every line, to suit the spirit of the speaker. 

A feeble line has a very absurd effect in French tra- 
gedy. The Infanta finishes a speech, 

Ma gloire et mon amour ont pour moi tant d'appas, 

Que je meurs s'il acheve ou ne s'acheve pas. 
Her confidant replies, 

Madame, apres cela, je n'ai rien a vous dire. 



REMAINS, 207 

Thursday, Dec. 24. — A beautiful day, but the snow, 
which fell so fast yesterday, is not melted, and the streets 
are uncomfortable for pedestrians. An attack of cold 
has affected my eyes, and prevented me from writing for 
some days. I bear very ill absence from books and maps ; 
and I feel that, as a blind man, I should have few re- 
sources left. Elizabeth read us a rather clever dramatic 
piece of Alex. Duval's — Les Heritiers. Duval's pieces 
are amusing, and excel in that smart dialogue that dis- 
tinguishes the French comic writers, but there is no 
attempt at painting his characters deeply, excepting in 
one piece — La jeunesse de Richelieu — a play of some 
originality, but which would be more aptly termed tra- 
gedy than comedy. Richelieu is well drawn, somewhat 
laboriously, and he shows this. Armand declaims ; he 
ought to reason. 

L' Hermit de la Chausse d' Antin, of which I have 
read two volumes, has given me a wish to see Paris. The 
pieces are well written ; they are light and pleasing. There 
are also some attempts to pourtray the foibles and follies 
of the Parisians, not unworthy of Le Sage. 

Agreed about our new lodgings to-day, to pay eighty 
francs a month, for anteroom, salon, 3 bedrooms, kitchen, 
and cellar, furnished. We pay the same for our present 
lodgings, which are very inferior. 

The windows of the book shops are full of books for 



208 REMAINS. 

new year's presents. I remarked some handsome bind- 
ings. 

Wednesday, Dee. 30.— Since Friday last, the weather 
has been most miserably cold, more so than I ever saw it 
in Scotland, and more so, I am told, than it has been here 
for an hundred years. The thermometer has been as low 
as 5 Fahrenheit. The Garonne is completely frozen ; the 
fountains through the town have ceased to flow. Many 
things show how unaccustomed the Toulouse folks are to 
any thing like this. They have no idea of frosting their 
horses, and refuse to drive wood or any thing else. Last 
Saturday, we were asked eight francs for a drive of half 
a mile, the driver alleging the risk he ran of laming his 
horses as a reason. The woodsellers in the town, taking 
advantage of the cold, and of the impossibility of trans- 
porting the commodity from the Port, ask a franc a log ; 
however, we got some from the Port in a hurdle, pushed 
by men, for very little more than the regular price. Our 
washerwoman is in sad distress; she says she makes 
nothing, and cannot dry an article until the fine weather 
return. Cold weather, in this latitude, is accompanied 
with no enjoyment. It is just like what it was at Ham- 
burgh about ten years ago, when I was there ; but, in- 
stead of crowds of skaters and sledges, with booths filled 
with refreshments, forming quite a street upon the ice, 
I only saw one individual upon the Garonne the other 



REMAINS. 209 

day, although it is,. I dare say, frozen a foot thick. It is 
ten years since the Garonne was frozen, and the same 
period since some of the Toulouse people saw snow. 
They have no idea of sliding or skating ; and all look 
frightened as if the end of the world were come. 

The winter is certainly a very unfavourable one for 
invalids in this climate, after such a November as we 
had, where almost every day was warm, and admitted of 
out-door exercise, it is somewhat trying to have a fog 
where the thermometer is never higher than twelve degrees 
below the freezing point ; and, what is worse, is, that the 
wood-fires when blown, will rarely heat a French room 
above twenty degrees beyond the temperature of the ex- 
ternal air. After walking to our new house on Monday, 
we found the room felt rather warm at 29° Fahrenheit, 
but when rising in the morning, we felt it very cold 
indeed. 

Friday, Jan. 1, 1830. — Yesterday, Elizabeth, Duncan 

and I walked out for a short time to visit the shops, which 

we found filled with various articles for new year's gifts. 

In a music- shop saw various collections of romances, of 

which we purchased one for Marjory. It was very 

cheap. At Mr. Vieupeux's, the bookseller, found many 

handsomely bound books laid out in a back room, where 

several people were selecting their etrennes. There 

were several Annuals in the English style, handsomely 
o 



210 REMAINS. 

printed, and the engravings executed by English artists. 
These engravings have no letter, and, I rather suppose, 
are also published in the English works. We purchased 
the Annales Roman tiques, 9^ francs stitched. The books 
appeared to be very dear in general. We next visited 
a confectioner's, and found by far the most customers 
there. The quantity of bonbons and preserves was 
amazing. The number consumed is, I hear, astonishing 
on this occasion. Jane tells me it is the custom in Paris 
for young men to present bonbons in every family where 
they are acquainted on New Year's Day, and that a 
considerable part of an income is frequently spent on 
such an occasion. 

Speaking of Bayard, I may observe, that this history, 
Guyard de Berville's, is a very poor affair, without the 
slightest pretension to the epithet of " classique," which 
my bookseller gave it. Bayard is a character I had al- 
ways admired, and I was anxious to know him more in- 
timately, but he has not risen in my esteem. True, he 
was brave, generous, and faithful to his sovereign, — true, 
many of the blots in his character may be attributed to 
the bloody times in which he lived, but I had imagined 
Bayard superior to the influence of these times. I had 
imagined him the very soul of chivalry, and I find that 
he leads his enemies into ambuscade, by bribing spies 
whom he despises, and although he is clement to his 



REMAINS. 211 

mounted adversaries, he rarely spares a single foot soldier 
who opposes him. His punctilio of honour too is a 
hloody one. I imagine there is far more true heroism in 
the modern British army, than in the character of Bayard. 
Even he is not exempt from the frivolity and cruelty of 
the Frenchman. 

Bayard, however, is quite the model of the French sol- 
diery, and although by no means perfect, he is certainly 
a good one. It is, however, not very creditable to the 
French nation, that this their first soldier of his time, 
should have died grey in the service, a simple captain. 
The envy of his comrades prevented his advancement. 

We have all as usual made many good resolutions for 
the (ensuing) present year. 

To day, Duncan and I were again out, but saw nothing 
particularly worth remarking. The great cold still con- 
tinues, and the streets are much frozen. We observed a 
singular beggar to day, a woman who flirted a fan, and 
wore a silk bonnet, white. Her dress was by no means 
calculated for the season, but she wished every passenger 
a happy new year, while she asked for alms with the 
grace of a ball room. 

Among my many good resolutions for the spring, which 
I intend to execute before leaving Toulouse, I purpose 

1. To go through the Grammaire des Grammaires. 

2. Montesquieu's Esprit des Lois, 



212 REMAINS. 

3. D'Alembert's analysis, which I began to day to tran- 
slate into English, (done 23d January) and which I mean 
to retranslate into French as an exercise. 

4. Anquetil's History of France, down to Louis XIV. 

5. Voltaire's age of Louis XIV. and XV., which I 
require to reread. 

6. To read a little German, Spanish, and Italian. 

7. To write, for Jane, a short account and character 
of my dear mother. To be finished on 1st May, for 
Jane's birth day. 

8. For Elizabeth, an account of our brother George, 
to be finished for her birth day, 5th May. 

9. To pursue my analysis of French history, down to 
Louis XIV. 

Such would be no bad four months' employment, and 
with the information we acquire from lighter reading, 
would give an excellent general acquaintaince with 
France and her history. I am now well enough to em- 
ploy myself several hours a -day, regularly. 

Tuesday, Jan. 5, 1830. — The French are strange folks : 
I went into the reading room, and found it full of law stu- 
dents. In this cold weather it requires a good deal of 
warmth to be comfortable, and firing is dear, and I daresay 
these youths find it much cheaper to subscribe to a reading 
room, to have a place to study in, than to be at the ex- 
pense of wood for the winter. I should have found it dim- 



REMAINS. 213 

cult enough^ to attend to the Pandects or the Code Napo- 
leon among such a crowd ; but, to be sure, although there 
is enough of going in and out, the room is very quiet. The 
French folks are fond of outward show and spectacles, 
and therefore they do not appreciate a comfortable home. 
A student sleeps in his room, but never dreams of eating, 
and scarcely of studying in it. He breakfasts by contract 
at an inn, and dines at a restaurateur's, or table d'hote, 
according to his means, and he studies in the reading- 
room. The poorer ones, I should suppose, take but one 
substantial meal a-day ; for among the baggage of a Bi- 
gorrean student who was coming to Toulouse, Dr. M. saw 
two or three great trunks full of chestnuts, as provision 
for winter. 

The streets are impassable for carriages. To judge 
from the newspapers, the authorities appear to spare 
no expense or toil, to keep the streets clear, and to pre- 
serve the lives and legs of the inhabitants. We read that 
by order of M. Le Comte de Ressequier, Maire, &c. tScc, 
the Garonne is immediately to be cut, the streets cleared 
of ice &c. &c, but the Garonne freezes more and more, 
and the streets are worse than ever. For coolness in 
summer, the fountains are allowed to dispense their 
favours in little gutters through all the streets. In winter, 
however, these streams are arrested in their course, and 



214 REMAINS. 

flow and freeze, deeper and deeper. It would be a fool- 
hardy affair to try to walk through the city in the evening 
at present. They may speak of the roads retarding the 
post, but even in the city it is impossible for the mail 
coach to approach the Post Office. The thermometer made 
a vigorous attempt to rise to 32° to day, and indeed ap- 
peared at 35° after sunshine, and at our window, but it is 
now again (9 o'clock) down to 27°, 5 degrees of frost. 

We have been pretty busy yesterday and to-day. 
Duvivier's Grammaire de Grammaires, a very useful com- 
pilation, was our first reading. We then translated from 
the French, and like that exercise. I am engaged with 
D'Alembert's Analysis of Montesquieu's great work, Jane 
with some chapters of Voltaire's Louis XIV. and XV. ; 
and Elizabeth with the Grandeur des Romains. We are 
taking Sir W. Jones' method, and mean to re-translate 
into French ; and very well pleased we shall be to write 
the language as well as he did. It is an accomplishment 
I desire much. We then read AnquetiPs somewhat dry 
History of France, — a useful one, however. The nicest 
reading we have (Jane and I) is the beautiful poem of 
Luise, by Vosz, which quite delights us with its virtuous 
simplicity and wise benevolence. What a charming and 
vivid picture is that Fest im Walde, — how much it recalls 
to my mind old homely Germany with its honest frank- 



REMAINS. 215 

ncss and kind hearts. The poem is doubly beautiful 
after the empty declamation and sneering ridicule of many 
of the French writers. 

Sunday, Jan. 10. — Finished our first week's diary last 
night. We have had much satisfaction in our employments 
with each other, which have, however, not been so many or 
so long as is desirable. Our hour of rising is very late. 
We have enjoyed Luise more than any thing else, but are, 
besides, doing a good deal in French History, &c. How 
much pleasure there is in a few regular employments. It 
has thawed a little to-day, and I hope we may soon have 
some good weather, for we all need exercise not a little. 

Monday, Jan. 11. — Frost and snow again. This is a 
tremendous winter for these climates. The Aude in the 
neighbouring department is frozen, — a thing not remem- 
bered to have happened before. 

What queer accounts one gets of travelling into Spain 
here. A mercantile man whom I asked on Saturday 
about the facilities of travelling, strongly dissuades me. 
He says, that one is in every inn convert de poux, and 
robbed, and even fired at between every station. I have 
no doubt my man knew nothing about it, and I have 
a great mind to try a walk to Barcelona in spring to 
see about it. I have been reading Estevanille Gonzalez, 
which, with Gil Bias, so well describes the manner of 
travelling in that cojuntry two hundred years ago, and I 



21 G REMAINS. 

suppose it is but little altered yet. Le Sage is an excel- 
lent novelist, although ridicule is rather his exclusive 
forte. 

A Restaurateur here advertises in to-day's paper, 
dinners for students, " II donnera des cachets a 1 
franc. Le diner se composera ainsi qu'il suit. Pot- 
age bceuf, deux plats et un dessert au choix, pain, et un 
denii-bouteille de vin." Cheap living. 

Tuesday, Jan. 1 2. — A long letter from home this morn- 
ing, which I answered immediately. 1 shall he delighted 
to be at Heidelberg next winter among the good Germans. 
Really th'e future looks not unfavourably. 

I have spoken of the magnificent appearance of the 
Pyrenees from the bridge of Toulouse. We have often 
admired the sublimity of this natural rampart, extending 
from sea to sea, built, as it were, by the master of nature 
as a safeguard of peace between two mighty nations. 
What a theme for poetry is such a scene, rich in romantic 
story, tradition, and truth. 

1. 

A shepherd of the Pyrenees, 

A mountain lay was singing, 
Where, from its caves, the broad Garonne, 

A river full, was springing. 



REMAINS. 217 



2. 

He heard within the wondrous source, 
So full and darkly streaming, 

The murmurs of the new-born waves, 
And saw their first bright gleaming. 



Around him grew the ancient trees, 

A pathless forest shewing ; 
Above him rise the snowy peaks 

In the red sunset glowing. 

4. 
Forth from the forest glares the wolf,— 

Above, the eagle hovers ; 
And from its caves the fountain clear 

A maiden fair discovers. 

5. 

And, mingled with the stream, the voice 
Of nature's bright-eyed daughter — 

How long ! how long, shall blood disturb 
The river's limpid water ? 

Red wolf ! fell eagle ! yet again 
I call you to the slaughter ! 



2.18 REMAINS, 

6. 
These mountains were a wall of peace, 

Of nature's mightiest building ; 
This stream a cup of innocence 

To all its waters yielding, 

7. 
Ambition leads,, and impious war 

Profanes the snow-clad mountain, 
And human glory, blood, and crime, 

Pollute the sacred fountain. 
They fought a tyrant to dethrone, 

They drove his slaves before them. 
Be sacred their remains, and strown 

The spring 's first green leaves o'er them. 

8, 
Red wolf, which glarest in the shade, 

Fierce eagle proudly soaring, 
For your repast it is that man 

His brother's blood is pouring. 



First, far within the night of time, 
The Carthaginian rose ! 

* Detached Verse in pencil. 



REMAINS. 219 

'Gainst hatred sworn, what hindrances 
Could rocks and streams oppose ? — 

Dark elephants from Zaura's waste, 
Trod Pyrenean snows. 

10. 

The sounds of war, the sounds of woe, 

Peal through the lonely valleys ; 
And host on host, with gleaming swords, 

Attacks, and yields, and rallies. 

11. 

For thee, red wolf, was shed the blood 

Of Spaniard, Gaul, and Roman ; — 
For thee, fierce eagle, bleach the bones 

Of each unyielding foeman. 

12. 

"Gainst fair Iberia the swords 

Of Goth and Vandal glance ; 
The Saracen his sabre draws 

Against the hosts of France ; - 
Against the Infidel the Frank 

Doth proudly couch his lance. 



220 REMAINS. 

13. 

Red wolf, which glarest in the shade. 

Fierce eagle proudly soaring. 
For your repast it is that man 

His brother's blood is pouring. 

Wednesday, 13th January. — I have been endeavouring 
to finish the lines I began yesterday, but feel a difficulty 
in concluding. Jane heard from Mrs. Brodie to-day. 

What a blessing is health, and how much one feels 
this when recovering from a long languishing illness ! 
If Jane were but as well as I now am, with what delight 
would I look forward to the ensuing summer, when I 
hope to enjoy the scenes of the Pyrenees and Alps with 
a pleasure superior to any I have yet derived from scenery. 
Our toilsome journeys will always have some longed for 
end in view, an end which will not disappoint us. When 
walking, our conversation and kind offices will lighten 
the fatigue to each other; we will greet the peasants 
and travellers we meet, and be all ear to the traditions 
and superstitions of the country ; we will taste of the 
fruit of every tree and drink of every fountain, resting 
our limbs by its brink ; we will laugh at the misfortunes 
of weather and others which assail us, and enjoy doubly 
the returning warmth of sunshine; our journals will 
grow under our hands with recollections of the countries 



REMAINS. 221 

we pass through and sketches of the wild and picturesque. 
Travelling has its future, present, and past enjoyments, 
the anticipation, probably, not the least of them ; to me 
it is most pleasing to read of the countries we intend to 
traverse, to calculate distances, and plan the most agree- 
able routes ; scarcely a day passes hut I consult the maps 
and authorities, and find something else to see and admire. 
Last summer, how much reason had I to regret my weak- 
ness among the beauties of the lake scenery of Cumber- 
land, and how much more shall I enjoy my strength of 
body and glad tone of mind in the mountain valleys of the 
continent. 

Thursday, January 21. — A funeral service for Louis 
XVI. to-day, being the anniversary of his murder. None 
of us went. His will was read. 

Sunday, 31st January. — Began to read something of 
Gondelin, the Toulouse poet, yesterday. I see my master, 
although he professes to be acquainted with the dialect, 
knows little about it, but he has not the candour to say so. 
He is not particularly fortunate, either, in his corrections 
of my French exercises, for he sometimes quarrels with 
a phrase of Voltaire's of which he has no idea, for he 
seems to think the battle of Fontenoy is an English piece 
altogether. I must not keep him beyond his month. 

Monday, 1st February, 1830. — Walked to-day up the 



222 REMAINS. 

Garonne three miles. The cold is excessive, although 
the thermometer only marks 23 and 24, at our house it 
was 18^ this morning, and there is at this temperature 
a breeze of wind which is ice itself; I was quite unable 
to oppose my face to the blast, and, I declare, I never 
felt cold so sensibly before. The Garonne has broken 
its dam above the town, and very little water runs in 
the navigable channel ; this keeps up the price of wood. 
The sun was powerful to-day, but no match for the cold 
of the wind. 

Friday, 5th February, 1830. — On Wednesday went 
to the Justice of Peace Court, where I was summoned 
at 10; told I might come back at 11 or ^ past it; went 
back at 11, and told I might return at 12 or \ past it, as 
the Judge seldom took his seat before that time ; went 
back at \ past 12, sadly plagued with rheumatism, which 
I unluckily took for toothache, so went to a dentist's oppo- 
site and had a tooth drawn : of course, I was any thing 
but relieved; however, I came back to the Court and 
waited until my cause came on ; no adversary appeared, 
so I came home, nothing having been done. The business 
appeared tolerably managed, but it is shameful that 
people should be cited so much before their time. Tor- 
mented all evening with rheumatism, which was very bad, 
but fortunately it abated towards night, and allowed me 



REMAINS. 223 

to sleep tolerably. Yesterday I was fit for nothing from 
the same cause, and to-day I have done little but write 
to Cambridge and home. 

Tuesday, 9 th February. — Walked with Duncan to-day 
three miles on the Narbonne road, and returned by the 
river, after crossing the heights, where we found dreadful 
roads. Had some conversation with a young gardener, 
who told me he was returning home to Montesquieu after 
an absence of three years. He had been with an uncle 
at Tormeins of the same trade. The youth is eighteen ; 
he carried a certificate of his first Communion in his 
hand in a frame ; it is a print of such a ceremony, and 
the letter is the certificate, so that the print gives the 
impression that it represents the communion of the par- 
ticular individual. Of this he was very proud, and told 
me the priests did not give these things to every one, 
but to those who were well acquainted with their cate- 
chism. The youth carried on his back an immense 
bundle of flower roots, &c. He tells me his daily ex- 
penses in travelling are ten sous for his bed, which he 
considers very dear. Every thing is relative. He pays 
likewise five sous for a breakfast of bread and wine, and 
a like sum for supper ; he never dines, so that a franc 
per day pays all. He manages from ten to fourteen 
leagues. Wages, from his account, are 25 sous with 
food, in his trade, — this is high for the prices of the 



224 REMAINS. 

country, — and 20 sons for harvesters. The effects of 
the severe winter have heen much felt ; bread was, at 
Tormeins, five sous per pound. 

Wednesday, 17th February. — To-day it has rained. 
It was pleasant to see the groupes of people enjoying 
the warm sunshine, and sitting writing and knitting in 
the open air. This has been a sad winter for the poor, 
who have suffered much. Duncan and I had a charming 
walk to the village of St. Martin de Touch, about three 
miles ; it is a very prettily situated place indeed. 

Saturday, 20th February, 1830. — In the evening Eli- 
zabeth went to a marriage feast with our servant Mar- 
guerite. The marriage party had been dancing from ten 
o'clock in the morning, and were to continue to do so 
for twenty-four hours. 

Saturday, 27th February. — Our week has not been a 
very active one, after all. We have been somewhat 
interrupted, and I, perhaps, even more lazily inclined. 
The beauty of the weather has tempted Duncan and me 
to take several long walks. We had ten miles at least 
one day ; we proceeded to Pouvonville, on the road to 
Vieille Toulouse ; both of these places are situated on 
the heights of Pech David to the south. These heights 
are a branch of the Pyrenees, and sink into the level 
country about two miles from hence. They appear to 
consist of chalk and clay, and are broken into very 



REMAINS. 225 

picturesque valleys and heights by the rains and streams. 
The Garonne has washed away a great deal to their west, 
and formed a very bare precipitous bank, from which 
there are very fine points of view. It is very delightful 
to leave the plain and tiresome straight French roads for 
the more English looking beauties of these heights, where 
the roads constantly wind, descending and ascending. 
Vineyards, villages, streams of clear water, cottages, and 
woods are on all sides, and, wherever there is a peep 
down a valley, the Garonne and the immense plain 
appears, with the Pyrenees in the distance. 

The archbishop died on the 20th at night. His body 
lay in state all the week, with his old cheeks and lips 
bedizened with rouge. He was eighty-three years old, 
and has left the reputation of a proud, interested man, 
who was not beloved. His funeral took place to-day ; 
the procession was fine, but much spoilt by the military. 
Why should a minister of peace be conducted to the 
tomb by soldiers and warlike music ? The Archbishop, 
Cardinal, Duke, and Peer of France, &c, was laid out on 
a black pall, borne by priests. His face appeared to be 
suffering from decomposition, and the colours of his lips 
were daubed about his face. The only time I ever saw 
his Eminence before, was at the fete of St. Charles, in 
November last, when he walked out on his crutches from 
the cathedral. He must have been a fine looking man. 
p 



220 



Besides the military, the foundlings, sisters of charitv, 
seminaries, and priests attended ; the churchmen all bore 
lighted tapers and missals. This part of the procession 
was appropriate. 

Elizabeth has been entering into the gaiety of Toulouse 
this week, she has been to a ball and an opera. The 
former was very crowded and stupid, the latter very 
good. It was Beaumarchais' Barbier de Seville. The 
Carnival ought to have ended on Tuesday; however, 
Ash Wednesday was the only day that seemed consecrated 
to gaiety. The French here steal a few days from the 
austerities of Lent. On Wednesday, numbers of masks 
paraded the cours dillere ; they were very puerile and 
stupid, but it was a gay scene enough. As we returned, 
we had the pleasure of meeting the devil, who was 
amusing the crowd with a pair of carrots for horns ; he 
was treated, however, in an appropriate manner, by so 
very religious a city as Toulouse, for they did not lose 
the opportunity of arresting his satanic majesty, who 
suffered himself to be escorted by some soldiers to the 
watch-house. 

Friday, March 1 2. — I have had to-day some farther 
experience of the French Justice of Peace Courts. When I 
took these rooms I now occupy, I agreed to retain them 
for more than one month, paying eighty francs per month. 
As I was aware that advantages mi^ht be taken, I gave 



REMAINS. 227 

notice I should leave the apartments on 28th instant, 
when I paid my rent on the 2d. My landlord was not 
in, so I pai-d to his son ; but on my attempting to pay 
him the last month, a few days ago, he refused it, saying, 
I must pay up to 28th April. This I told him I would 
certainly not do, as I had given him the proper notice. 
On this he answered, with a French grin, and insolent 
grimaces, " Ah, monsieur, il y a des lois en France pour 
tout le monde." Say you so, thought I; so I walked down 
to &juge de palx, who put a bilkt & Invitation into my 
hands, and appeared to-day to tell my story. My adver- 
sary did not appear, and the Juge seemed to enter warmly 
into my case. The huissier desired me to call, but he 
having met my landlord in the mean time, told me in the 
afternoon, that he thought I might settle amicably with 
him, as the juge had spoken to him. However, my 
miserly fellow would not hear of settling, and flew into 
a great rage with me ; so I left him, and walked down 
to the huissier again, who began to draw out an acte 
d' offre ; but my old fox came down when he saw my 
perseverance, and accepted the rent I had first offered 
him. He declared to me before, " qu'il mangeroit tout 
son bien plutot que de ceder," and I dare say he will 
trouble us about breakages when we leave, but I am very 
well pleased with having successfully resit-ted this im- 
position. In such cases promptitude is indispensable. 



228 REMAINS. 

Had I delayed learning my landlord's views and settling 
until going, I must either have paid his demands or re- 
mained in an inn here for some days to resist them. But 
a distinct written agreement is the best thing of all. I 
was much pleased with the judge in various cases I saw 
before my own came on. There was impartiality, and a 
great desire to conciliate. 

Saturday, March 13. — A delightful walk to Old Tou- 
louse, and home ; found no remains of antiquities, saving 
an earthen mount, shapen like a half pyramid, and the top 
being hollowed a few feet. The top might be about 40 or 
50 feet long, by 30 broad. It is situate on the highest 
ground the neighbourhood affords, and was, no doubt, a 
place of refuge and defence in attacks. The pyramid is 
raised about 30 feet above the ground, and has besides a 
protecting dry ditch. One of the objects of our walk was 
not attained, which was to have a distinct view of the 
Pyrenees, which, had they been visible, we should have 
had from this old strength. A number of antiquities 
have been found at Old Toulouse, and Duncan and I 
tried our eyes looking for coins. Remains of vases or 
urns there were enough to have contained the ashes of 
the whole Gallic nation, but we had no taste for tiles. 

Saw to-day, in leaf, a few sprigs of hawthorn, wild 
rose, elder lilac, and weeping willow, peach and cherry 
in flower, but not in leaf. They call this a backward 






REMAINS. 229 

season, and indeed it is not so early, as it ought to be at 
the latitude of 43|. 

Wednesday, March 1 7. — -Have been enquiring all this 
week about carriages, &c, for Paris. I cannot find a car- 
riage to hire, and don't like the thought of buying one; and 
in France, one cannot travel post without having a carriage, 
as there are none kept by the postmasters. We are, 
therefore, thinking of travelling by diligences. Our num- 
ber would just fill a coupe or chaise part of the dilly, and 
we should thus be independent of the politeness or bru- 
tality of fellow travellers. Jane's health does not admit 
of long journeys, and therefore we shall frequently rest, 
which there are facilities for doing, as, besides the regular 
diligences, there arc many subsidiary ones between the 
principal towns. 

Purchased a few books to-day, which belonged to the 
Bishop of Mirepoux, near this. They are Montaigne's 
Essays, Dacier's Horace, MachiavelPs Florence, Corn- 
mines' Memoires, and Rollin's Traite des Etudes; be- 
sides, there are five volumes of the Elzevir Cicero, a 
beautiful copy. If I can find the other five, as I have 
some expectation of doing, at Paris, the edition will have 
cost me very little. Strong rumours of the dissolution of 
the French Chambers to-day. 

Sunday, March 23. — Just a year to-day since my dear 
mother died. That event completely broke my boyish ties, 



230 REMAINS. 

and I felt myself a man, and a sad one. With her went 
away all the gentle spirit and nature that surrounded her, 
and we became all more people of the world, We were 
better when watching about her quiet holy sick-bed, than 
we have been since when more in society. She, and 
Melville, and childhood, are all gone. We read to-night 
the 14th chapter of St. John, her favourite chapter, and 
spoke of her. 

We left Toulouse for England on the 26th March, 1830; 
the weather was already oppressively hot, and every thing 
bursting into leaf. The willows, poplars, and earlier 
trees, were just out, and the vine was just beginning to 
bud. 

We had resided above five months in Toulouse, I had 
recovered health, but we had made no friends, and we 
had had some trials, so we left the place without one 
regret, and with great pleasure. 



The following extracts from letters written during 
the journey to Toulouse, and residence there, are 
inserted, notwithstanding occasional recapitulation. 



231 



TO HIS SISTER M. 

Dublin, 29th September, 1829. 
We have had a disagreeable enough passage of 27 
hours, and have enjoyed our landing the more. The 
gaiety and good-humour of the people is very striking ; 
the hosts of cars drawn by little punch horses, and filled 
with people of all classes and denominations on the 
Kingston road, are uncommonly gay. To be sure you 
see pasted on a wall or two "Murder," and "£200 
Reward ! " but a few murders don't at all interrupt the 
general gaiety. We anticipate a charming dinner by 
and by, after a short walk ; the day is very fine, and 
the chief drawback to our pleasure is, that we must sail 
to-morrow morning. Were every day like this, I should 
like to winter here amazingly ; for four days of sickness 
by steam is not a pleasant prospect. 



TO H. M'C. 



Toulouse, 14th November, 1829. 
In French towns there arc many conveniences ; thus, for 
paying 5d. a month, the girls have copies of any Study they 



232 



REMAINS. 



like from the School of Arts here. I hope during the 
winter they will both draw some good heads, to take 
home as proofs of their industry. Duncan is occupied 
in drawing maps ; he has finished one of France, with 
its rivers, and is now doing the Pyrenees. This last is 
to be our travelling companion there next spring, and is 
on a great scale. Our other occupations are reading an 
immense French grammar, which is very improving, — 
leading us into all the minutiae of the language. In 
history, we are reading the life of Bayard, which we 
have almost finished : and, after we have done so, we 
mean to read a complete history of France. Bayard is 
a most noble character, — the last of the knights who were 
guided by sentiments of honour, without seeking personal 
aggrandizement. His kindness of heart is much shown, 
and his generosity is quite splendid. You should read 
of him when you can pick up the book. He is a char- 
acter to unite with Robert Bruce and the Black Prince. 
We feel the sun quite delightful at this season, and 
spend always several hours in walking about mid-day. 
Sometimes the heat is rather oppressive, but in general 
it is charming. A very clear atmosphere we almost al- 
ways have, and the Pyrenees are seldom invisible, 
although from 60 to 120 miles off. They form a mag- 
nificent horizon from S. E. to S. W., being finely pointed, 
and alwavs covered with snow. The river here is beau- 



REMAINS. 233 

tiful, of a fine transparent sea-green, and very wide and 
rapid. We walk frequently several miles by its banks, 



TO HIS BROTHER CHARLES. 

Toulouse, 1 9th December, 1829. 
* * * We see very little company here, but as 
much as we are inclined for. The clergyman of the 
church is an evangelical man, and a very pleasing one. 
He knows the name of Chalmers well, and is personally 
acquainted with Wilberforce, the Macaulays, &c. Eng- 
land is looked to as the stronghold of Protestantism by the 
French Protestants. An amazing change has taken place, 
M. Chabrand informs me, in the clergy here. Twenty 
years ago, it was a common thing to see Voltaire and 
Rousseau in the library of a young preacher, and not a 
bible ; but great attention has been awakened to religion. 
There are about 400 Protestants in Toulouse. The 
Catholics of this part of France are very bigoted, but 
they do not appear to me so devout as those of the 
Netherlands. The Archbishop here is a Cardinal of the 
house of Clermont Tonnere, quite a leading man. The 
tone of society in Toulouse, from what I can learn, is 



234 REMAINS. 

very aristocratic. There are many of the ancienne 
noblesse, and this is not a place of such commercial im- 
portance as to raise the mercantile class near the level 
of the nobles. The English are well used. The Prefet 
Baron de Martroy has a soiree every Monday. The 
General, Viscomte Barbot, (this is the chief place of a 
division militaire) every Wednesday. To these soirees 
all the bon ton of the City have access. There is here 
also a school of artillery, over which General Ricci 
presides. These are the leading men, but there are 
likewise many private families of nobles. We do not 
intend to honour any of these soirees, and our society 
consists of two Irish families, who came over with us, 
the Fortescues and Kellvs, and the Courtcis, Irish Pro- 
testant bankers here, of whom there are an immense 
number, Elizabeth says ninety-five. Madame Courtois 
is an old lady, daughter of the late Bishop of London, 
and her sons are thus half English. They all speak it 
tolerably. They come sometimes to sit with us in the 
evening, and are very pleasant. We have never had 
more than three in the house at once. 



I have heard from John Menzies since he reached 
Montpellier, and wrote him on receipt of your letter. 
I suppose he will not remain long there, as he seems to 



REMAINS. 235 

think there are not many facilities for the subject of his 
study. He was quite uncertain about his future motions, 
as we had quite taught him the art of making plans 
while here. We have made about twenty for going 
home and seeing the Pyrenees. Will you join us by 
the first boat to make the tour ? I am now quite up to 
the geography and the manner of travelling. It is a far 
cheaper country than Switzerland to travel in ; and a 
month's walking would give us time for all the wonders 
both on the French and Spanish side. The Pyrenees 
merit attention, they reach the height of 11,500 feet, and 
their mountain wonders are far more accessible than 
those of the Alps. A cascade of 1200 French feet is to 
be seen on the French side, as also some small wild 
lakes, fifty hot-springs, and many beautiful forests and 
cultivated valleys. Inns are plentiful. On the Spanish 
side is to be seen the Republic of Andorre, independent 
of France or Spain; the famous Montserrat; the Vale 
of Roncesvalles, &c. The source of the Garonne is one 
of the greatest curiosities. It rises at the head of a forest 
valley, near a hospice of monks, at the foot of the highest 
of the Pyrenees, Maladetta. It rises a large river, and 
perfectly transparent. Its size is such, that it is used for 
floating down the wood of the Spanish forests into France. 
I am afraid, however, that you won't be able to come 
to see these wonders, and to return by the Rhone and 



236 REMAINS. 

Auvergne to Paris. Father writes, that he does not 
mean to come either ; so, I presume, we must journey 
alone. 



We have now terribly cold weather, and snow four 
inches deep. The thermometer this morning was down 
to y Fahrenheit. The Garonne is frozen over the first 
time these ten years ; and the Toulouse bairns are look- 
ing about in perfect astonishment at the white sugar in 
the streets. It is really a tremendous winter, and makes 
us burn an amazing quantity of wood. It is sad weather 

for poor G V travelling south. I was sorry to 

hear such an account of him. I wish B J 

had tried a southern climate, for, notwithstanding its in- 
conveniences, and want of comfort in some respects, two 
such months as October and November were here, would 
have brought any person round. Such serenity of sun- 
shine, and calmness of atmosphere were truly delightful. 



Pray remember me to Adam Ramage, and the " terrible 

man John Tod, John Tod," as well as S G . 

There is a paper-mill somewhere in this neighbourhood, 
which I must ferret out and examine. 



REMAINS. 237 



TO HIS FATHER. 



Toulouse, 7th February, 1830. 
I have a great deal to say on the subject of our winter 
plan.* At Rome or Florence, education is limited ; a 
History of England is a prohibited book. However, they 
are both admirable places for studying the classics and 
arts, and possess a most superior society. An Italian edu- 
cation would be a far more showy one, and much more 
popular in England, but it is one more calculated for 
young men of rank, and for artists. A far more general in- 
formation, a knowledge more free and liberal, and equally 
exact, is to be obtained in Germany. There education is 
absolutely free from prejudice or restraint. The country 
enjoys every form of religion and government, from the 
balancing and friendly collision of which result an un- 
common freedom, and a calm examination of their prin- 
ciples. In Italy £200 or £300 per annum, and I will 
send you home accomplished and well-mannered gentle- 
men. In Germany, half the sum will suffice, and will 
produce men, not so showy, but with more valuable ac- 
quirements, r.nd at home on all subjects. 

* Referring to a plan for the education of young men abroad. 



23S REMAINS. 



TO HIS FATHER. 



Toulouse, IStk February 1830. 
I have not been idle with French during the winter, 
I have almost finished retranslating Voltaire's Battle 
of Fontenoy into French. This has been a severe test 
for my master, whom I have found a very second-rate 
scholar, on comparing him with Voltaire, and tormenting 
him with the reasons of his corrections, which are often 
the reverse of improvements. I shall pack him olf at the 
end of next week, for I find Jane a much better master. 
I have almost mastered the absurd French versification 
— have read carefully four of Corneille's tragedies, &c. 
ike. Whenever Jane is a little stronger, I shall be yet 
busier, for I can study several hours a-day with pleasure. 
Duncan goes on remarkably well. I have beat Pascal, 
who has only got his money for his two months. He 
cited me to the Justice of Peace Court, an establishment 
borrowed from us. I went at 10, as cited, the judge 
took his seat at half-past 1 2, and my case came on at 
two. Pascal never appeared, conscious of his bad cause. 
I took no advice, but having had a rehearsal of my story 
at home, I made a fair speech, and have had no more 
trouble, and I shan't give the scoundrel another penny. 



REMAINS. 230 



TO A. M. 



Toulouse, Rue Mage, No. 4. 
28th February 1830. 

My Dear A , A number of things have conspired 

within a short time to reproach me with not writing to 
you ; but yesterday, an event took place of so singular a 
nature, that I cannot forbear asking your opinion of it. 
Our old Archbishop here, died a week ago, and was 
yesterday interred with great splendour. An immense 
procession of priests, sisters of charity, and soldiers, 
passed our window. First came a military band, then 
the enfans trouves, girls and boys, dressed in blue ; next, 
some hundred of these interesting and respectable nuns, 
the soeurs de la charite ; then, seven or eight hundred 
priests, clothed in white surplices, and each bearing in 
his hand a lighted taper, and a breviary ; next, the Car- 
dinal Archbishop, Anne Antony de Clermont Tonnere, 
Duke and Peer of France, &c, laid out on a black pall, 
in his robes, — his cheeks and lips daubed over with rouge, 
which did not, however, prevent death looking through. 
His Cardinal's hat was laid across him. After the Arch- 
bishop were a throng of shaven monks, and then the 
military. Among the latter, we distinguished a very 
handsome tall figure, in a cocked hat, with blue uniform, 
and drawn sword, which reminded us of some Scotch 



240 REMAINS. 

friend. He advanced gravely and mournfully, and when 
under our windows, looked slowly up. We all drew 

our breaths quickly, and exclaimed, " A M ! " 

Yes, A , he had the same blue eyes, auburn hair, and 

philosophic physiognomy. 

Now, pray, were you yesterday in Toulouse or not ? 
This is not all; you re-appeared in my dreams, and 
abused me for not writing ; and, when I awoke, my first 
thought was, your grave phiz still in my mind, that it 
was your worship's birth-day, of which I wish many re- 
turns. I suppose you have, however, heard of my much 
improved health, and plans for remaining some consider- 
able time on the continent. I am aware of the necessity 
of it, and I do not find but that I shall put up with it 
pretty well. I still feel that an awkward stoop, or any 
violent motion, such as a dance, even for a minute, im- 
mediately warms my right side, and excites my sleeping 
cough. Without a wife to watch me constantly, I do 
not think I should have recovered ; but, as it is, I grow 
sage, and steady apace. I have adhered strictly to my 
resolution of never going out of an evening, and during 
my walks, I have never over-fatigued myself. Indeed, 
I can bear much quiet exercise. 

At Florence, or where else 1 may reside, I shall not 
likely have any so mad friends as the sage Hive, or 
serenading Enterpeian Society, whom I would, however, 



REMAINS, 241 

gladly see again ; and I shall likely become more and 
more a family man. Having the boys with me, will 
almost persuade me I am in Edinburgh ; and besides 
letters, I trust I shall sometimes have a visit from my 
Scotch friends, among whom you will be especially wel- 
come ; I shall always be looking forward, too, for I am 
sanguine enough, to the time when I shall return from 
my banishment, What think you of my plan? I hope 
you will use your influence to pick me up teachable 
young men. By the bye, I must have your whole nume- 
rous progeny, should I be so long abroad, if you are not 
afraid of my making them as great ne'er-do-weels as 
myself. I have been attempting, for a long time, to write 
French like a native — by the way, many of them write 
it miserably. As for speaking it here, one runs a great 
risk of learning a proscribed accentuation, one of the 
worst in France. The forty academicians of Paris, who 
ont I 'esprit comme quatre, are the ruling powers, far more 
despotic than Johnson's dictionary. The unfortunate 
writer, who uses a word, old or new, not approved of by 
these worthies, is most roughly handled, and a provincial 
accent is worse accounted of than a bad character. In 
France, Paris is every thing, they have no Edinburgh, no 
Liverpool, no Glasgow. My French master was petrified 
the other day, when I informed him that Sir Walter 
Scott did not live in London ; he could not understand 
Q 



242 REMAINS. 

how an author of eminence could possibly reside in the 
country. That his works are not published in London 
created still greater surprise. If you go into a shop here., 
and ask for any thing that is not kept, " Vous ne trou- 
verez cela qu'a Paris;" and if you complain of any 
thing, " C'est beaucoup mieux a Paris." Paris i«. in every 
body's mouth. Before the revolution, such towns as 
Toulouse, being chief places of provinces, and seats of 
government, were of far greater importance. This place 
had its parliament, separate university, some sixty 
churches, convents, &c. and a great population ; but the 
levelling system of the departments has sadly reduced 
this city. Half its churches are occupied as barracks and 
military stores, much of it ruinous, and the population 
much decayed, while Paris, by appropriating to itself the 
whole government of the nation, has risen immensely. 
Edinburgh would have the same fate as Toulouse, were 
it reduced to the chief place of the county, instead of the 
capital of Scotland, and the residence of the Writers to 
his Majesty's Signet. I congratulate you on having en- 
tered into so illustrious a body. 

I sometimes look into the French codes, for I have 
earned a kind of predilection for law, but it will be long 
ere I read Erskine again, I dare say. There is one ad- 
mirable French writer on universal law, Montesquieu, 
whose correct productions I often peruse. 



REMAINS. 243 



Toulouse, IBth March, 1830. 
I have certainly benefited in health very much by 
passing the winter here, but I have not learned to like 
France. It is true, the nature of the country and people 
ought not to have much effect in our own circle, and 
neither it has, for, within doors, we have been as com- 
fortable as we could wish ; but we have felt a good deal 
the absence of pleasing society, and, still more, the pre- 
valence of dishonesty and false politeness; our letters 
from our friends in England have been our greatest 
pleasure, and, being so, we know what we lose in not 
enjoying their conversation and company. We have 
seen very little indeed of the French, nor have we any 
wish to see more ; they do not appear to have any idea 
of domestic life, and their amusements are all of a gay, 
frivolous, and heartless kind. Of course, I only speak 
of the French in this district. I have found the peasantry 
rather more interesting ; although very ignorant, they are 
a happy kind of people, and delighted to converse with 
strangers ; on religious topics they are quite submissive 
to the priesthood. 



244 REMAINS. 



TO HIS SISTER MARJORY. 

Paris, 14th April, 1830. 
I have just come in from a reading-room opposite, 
where I have been reading the Lord Advocate's speech 
about the Court of Session in the Scotsman of 7th April ; 
this shews we are a good deal nearer home now. We 
are very much amused with Paris, and live very moderately. 
Our rooms cost us 42 francs a-week, and we breakfast 
in our hotel likewise, but we dined yesterday at a 
restaurateur's, and shall continue to do so, as it reno- 
vates one's strength after walking, and we can thus dine 
at any part of the town we like, and at any hour. The 
gardens and walks here are delightful, and the buildings 
splendid, but the air and the countenance of the people 
does not please me, for they look terribly pleasure-hunt- 
ing and dissipated ; it is but a painful kind of gaiety to 
see the coffee-houses crowded with young men in the 
evening, drinking, smoking, and playing, and one wishes 
they had some more domestic and pleasing occupation ; 
but the Parisians are, very many of them, bachelors, and 
have no idea of pleasure but what the endless number of 
their theatres and public amusements affords. 



REMAINS. 24i 



TO A. M. 

Paris, 17 th April, 1830. 

We have been here some days, and are living a won- 
derfully sober, quiet life for this dissipated city. I am just 
opposite Galignani's reading-room, and have the pleasure 
of seeing Blackwood, the Courant, and Scotsman there, 
so I feel almost at home. What says the fraternity to 
the Lord Advocate's bill ? I am disposed to think the 
cheapening of law proceedings beneficial, and the doing 
away with infeftments an improvement, but, I suppose, 
little will be carried through in these matters. By the 
way, the French judicial system is about the most expen- 
sive and clumsy in the world, although, like every thing 
else here, of the most novel fashion. 

We have, of course, been to see the Galleries, Tuilleries, 
and other drolleries, but we have been at no theatres or 
nocturnal amusements. I never saw a city with such a 
pleasure-hunting appearance as this, with such mobs of 
gazers and idlers, among whom I am, of course, a bird 
of a feather. 

We saw a very fine review of some 15,000 household 
troops on Thursday, and poor Charles X. and his family ; 



24-0 REMAINS, 

tliey were very coldly received, and are, I dare say, not 
very comfortably established in the affections of the 
people yet. The field was the Champ de Mars, the 
same where the same French nation have sworn allegiance 
to emperor, king, and commonwealth, some dozen times 
within the last forty years. The Chamber of Deputies 
is to be dissolved, we hear, and a new one convoked, but 
things appear very peaceable ; there is enough for the 
people to eat, and the theatres are open. The people 
are a good deal like the mob of Coriolanus. 

We see an amazing number of English in Paris, and, 
indeed, they are an important part of the population, 
when one considers that their advertisements keep up 
a well-managed English paper, and their letters require 
a separate office at the post. — We live cheaply, dining 
for twenty pence a day at a restaurateur's, which are so 
numerous that we could change our host every day for 
about ten years. Our greatest luxury has been a bottle 
of porter, which, coming from the south, we prefer to 
all the thin bacchic potations of France. We shall be 
here until about the 1st of May, and then see England. 
The only place I should fancy to reside in in France is 
Orleans, a quiet, sober, respectable place, possessing 
little gaiety and much excellent society, but it is not 
favoured by English, because the people there make no 
show, and go to no expense. The English at Tours are 



REMAINS. 247 

notorious for outvying each other, and, as in most foreign 
places,, are split into exclusive parties. Their quarrels 
are very miserable, and very bitter ; the French laugh 
at their enmities, and, I dare say, pluck both sides alike. 
We have to see Versailles., Sevres, &c. and I have some 
idea of seeing a French play or two, provided the weather 
is warm, and I be as free from all cough and pain as now. 



FROM THE JOURNAL. 

We travelled post. The French system is a little 
complex, but, when understood, is excellent; one can 
calculate his expenses to a nicety, and the progress, for 
France, is rapid. We hired a carriage for the journey, 
which cost us 3 50 francs, or £6, to Paris, and we had 
twenty days allowed us. Our carriage was a dormeuse, 
and quite adapted for travelling; we stored it with a 
few books, a bottle of wine, and another of water, some 
cold fowl, bread, &c. and a few knives and forks; these 
articles saved us many an expensive dinner. We had 
our post-book and a pre-calculated note of posting charges 
always at hand, and had a plentiful supply of small 
money, which saved us much time at paying. 



248 REMAINS, 

26th March. — Left Toulouse, slept at Agen. 

27th. — Left Agen at 6, slept at Bordeaux. 

28th, Sunday. — Rested at Bordeaux. 

29th. — Slept at Angouleme. 

30th. — Went down to Cognac, where remained until 
7th April. 

7th April. — Dined at Saintes, went through St. Jean 
d'Angely and Niort to Poictiers, where breakfasted next 
day, and slept between 8th and 9th at Tours. 

9th. — Slept at Orleans, where remained until 12th. 

12th. — Reached Paris, Hotel Boston, Rue Vivienne. 

26th. — Left Paris per Diligence, travelled all night, 
and slept between 27th and 28th at Calais. 

28th. — Reached London. 

29th. — Reached Cambridge. 

29th May. — Left Cambridge, slept at Stamford. 

30th. — Sunday at Leicester. 

31st. — To Derby, where remained till 3d June, I 
think. 

3d June. — To Liverpool. 

8th. — Slept at Kendal. 

9th. — Through Ambleside, Keswick, and Penrith, to 
Carlisle. 

10th.— To Gretna. 

11th. — Glasgow, Dumbarton, and Arroquhar, where 
remained. 






REMAINS. 249 

LIST OF BOOKS READ 1830. 
Entered when finished, (From Journal kept at Toulouse.) 

Jan. 11. Estevanille Gonzalez, by Lesage — Not equal 
to Gil Bias, but not unworthy of its author — spirited and 
witty. Lesage is most powerful in ridiculing human 
foibles, not in describing virtues or great characters. He 
laughs at human nature, clothes it gaily, but imparts no 
redeeming principle. 

Jan. 11. Duval Alex: Vol. 6. Les Tapisseries. An 
original and smart little piece, well adapted for private 
theatricals. Some good witticisms of Madame de Genlis 
in the preface. Les Suspects, witty. 

Jan. ] 8. Ditto. Several pieces. Charles II., clever and 
spirited. An instructive writer. His prefaces have a 
tone of good sense, rarely found in French authors. His 
criticism for the most part, sound. 

Jan. 18. Jouy. Hermite de la chausse d'Antin. 
Amusing. A vivid picture of Paris. It wants dignity 
and purity of sentiment, like the French character — 
Somewhat servile in politics. Some pleasing writing, and 
will no doubt be a valuable book on the French manners, 
in the reign of Napoleon. 

Jan. 20. Segur's Memoirs. M. de Segur is quite a 
Frenchman, but a good humoured, and agreeable one. 



250 REMAINS. 

His memoirs owe more to the interest of their period, 
than to the talent of the writer, or his character. His 
American sketch is poor and trivial — His Russian resi- 
dence much more satisfactory — His politics are remark- 
able, he is always envving, and always abusing England. 
We always hear of the "treize grandes provinces" which 
M. de Segur informs us France " enleva" aux Anglais, and 
of the " melancolique" of the poor British Ambassador. 
What a miserable part France appears to have acted in 
diplomacy, previous to the Revolution. Au reste there 
is in this book much amusing anecdote, and some well 
drawn portraits. 

Jan. 20. Ch. P. de Kock. Soeur Anne, 4 vols. Paris, 
1825. It is not often I read novels. This was put into 
my hand by my Bookseller, with the remark " c'est qu'on 
lit le plus." I find it tolerably loose, and tolerably witty. 
The author paints well the worthless gaiety of the French 
character, together with its sentimental want of principle. 
Young Montreville is in France an interesting reveur, in 
England he would be a villanous seducer. The graver 
part of this book contains much beautiful writing and 
description. The unfortunate Dutch girl, is affecting. 
What a vivid contrast between these pathetic scenes, and 
those others which are imitated from Smollett. Constance 
is a fine character. 

Jan. 25. J. H. Vosz. Luise, reread. I have spoken 






KEMAINS. 251 

of this delightful poem in my journal. It is perfect. It 
lias afforded Jane and me the truest pleasure, and we are 
sorry enough we have got through it. 

Jan. 27. Aug. La Fontaine. Several novels. Les Huis- 
sards. Half of it is excellent, his novels please me much 
more in their native German. 

Feh. 5. Corneille. Cinna, Les Horaces, Rodrigue. I 
am on the whole much disappointed with French tragedy. 
There is certainly much power and sublimity, hut it has 
an air of invariable stiffness and study. I can fre- 
quently give admiration, never tears. Corneille speaks 
to the ears and eyes, never to the heart. Perhaps an 
Englishman must always he a prejudiced,, or at least a 
partial critic of productions, so foreign to his tastes and 
country., but still can any one say he has ever drunk 
from Corneille's muse, that sublime wisdom, and unvar- 
nished truth, that Shakspeare and Schiller, so majesti- 
cally unfold. No ! at most, Corneille dresses in spirited 
verse, the ideas of others of his prototypes. A poverty 
of sentiment is concealed, by sounding words, and stifF 
Alexandrines. It is no wonder that the French actors 
rant. These fadeurs " of beaux yeux and beaux feux, 
and tigres alteres de sang," require it. Corneille destroys 
every thing by emphasis, and common place. There is 
no keeping, no calm subdued dignity, no true pathos. 

Feb. 9. Villcmain. Eloge de Montesquieu appeared 



252 REMAINS. 

to me to sound well, to be fine and well written, and the 
notes learned and interesting, but I bave entirely for- 
gotten its spirit. Either my memory is villanous, or this 
work (quotations excepted) is very inferior in sense, to 
sound. 

Feb. 24. Moliere. Misantrope, Femmes Savantes, &c. 
&c. I have read and reread almost all the productions of 
this author, and am charmed with him. So lively a pic- 
ture of fashionable life and foibles, so exquisite a sense 
of ridicule, I have never almost seen. Infinitely supe- 
rior to the tragedians are the comedies of Moliere. 

March 18. Edinburgh and Quarterly Reviews, October 
last, Blackwood's Magazine, &c. &c. What a treat it 
has been to us, to read some right sensible English again. 
What reason we have to be proud of our language, and 
country. After the empty menace, and unintelligible 
bombast of French politics, with what pleasure we can 
go through a sound, well-meaning, honest article in either 
of our leading Reviews. 



The months of June and July (1830) were spent 
at Arrochar on Loch Long, where, reunited to his 



REMAINS. 253 

family and friends, he had much enjoyment, and was 
in regard to his own health, free of any cause of 
anxiety. But a new source of apprehension had 
arisen, and was gradually forcing itself upon the 
minds of his friends, (though he long struggled 
against its admission) in the state of his wife's 
health ; indications of the illness, which in the end 
proved fatal, having for some time been betrayed. 
They in consequence removed to Edinburgh in the 
beginning of August, and subsequently went to Ger- 
many. 

The following letter gives his impressions, on re- 
visiting the scenes of his infancy and youth, at this 
time. 

TO H. M. 

Moray House, 13^ July, 1830. 
You can scarcely think how strange I feel on revi- 
siting Edinburgh. I feel so disunited from it now, since 
I am again to go abroad, and I pass by, as an idle man, 
the former scenes where I used to be so much occupied. 
I have had great pleasure, however, in seeing so many of 
my old friends, and especially in a visit to Penicuik on 
Sunday : I walked with emotion to the graves, which be- 
come peopled as we die, and looked at the fresh grass 



2.34 REMAINS. 

and tuff, which covers the four departed ; plants and 
flowers, and trees around, are rich in the luxuriance of 
summer, while the immortal seed sown deeper in the 
ground, still sleeps waiting, waiting for the final and 
eternal spring. Who is it that says so beautifully, that 
when we look on the far blue heavens, and green earth, 
the latter appears a crust of vanities, which divides man 
from the secrets of the tomb, and which separates the 
tenants of the grave from their future habitation in the 
shies ? 

These are not the exact words, perhaps. And how is 
it that I, whose mother and brother were there slum- 
bering, (and such a mother, and brother ! ) that I could 
have found happiness, exceeding the first happiness, in 
other friends and ties ? It indeed appears rational that 
we should do so, when we believe we are to meet again 
all former friends, and consider them only to have gone 
to another abode, where we shall join them, but I fear 
the memory of them is too apt to decay, and it may be 
from that, (a far less pleasing reason) that we take much 
interest in new attachments. However, He that hath en- 
dowed human nature with such greatness, and such weak- 
ness, hath best known what is good for us. 



REMAINS. 255 

On 17th September 1830, the subject of these 
memoirs, and his wife, bade a last adieu to his native 
land. They were accompanied by his three younger 
brothers, and were joined at Rotterdam, by Mrs. 
Cowan^s mother, Mrs, Thompson, and her old and 
faithful French servant, Josephine. 

The following letters are so full of particulars, as 
to render any further preface unnecessary. 

TO HIS SISTER MARJORY. 

Rotterdam, Grand Hotel d" An-gleterre, 
27th September, 1830. 
We have had a most tedious, and boisterous passage, and 
Jane has suffered, not more however than was to be ex- 
pected, and is again pretty well. We left Holy Island 
on Wednesday morning, with a fine wind, and got on 
well, but Thursday was a terrible southerly gale, and was 
spent by us, in beating about the coast of Yorkshire, 
heartily nauseated. Friday fine again ; on Friday evening- 
made Yarmouth, and left with expiring day-light, and a 
good northerly breeze for Holland. On Saturday morn- 
ing however, when we arose, we found a tremendous 
gale, and the coast is so very low, that it is dangerous to 
approach it except in smooth water, so we beat off to the 
northward, and tacked hack again on Saturday. Durinjr 



256 REMAINS. 

that night, the gale still continuing, (the waves beating 
over and over the deck) we again beat off. On Sunday 
(yesterday) it moderated, and we made sail with an 
auspicious breeze, for Holland. We had by this time 
quite lost our reckoning, and imagining ourselves not very 
far from the coast, we were all busy looking for land, 
and continued expecting it for many hours, ere we saw 
it. All our endeavours did not bring us into the river 
last night, and we had the mortification to see the Bata- 
vier with Mr. Thompson on board, pass us this morning. 
■?:- * -H- * -* * 

On political events, I may add the strange news and 
rumours of the evening. Brussels destroyed by the Dutch 
soldiery, communication cut off with the surrounding 
country, the roads round it covered with wounded and 
dying, Prince Frederick II., son of the king, killed, and 
orders given to sacrifice every thing utterly, to quench the 
disturbances ; the number of slain said to be immense. 
In Holland there is but one feeling, that the Belgians had 
no grievances, and ought to be massacred into obedience. 



TO HIS FATHER. 



Bonn, 10th October, 1830. 
We had a 42 hours' voyage^ (from Rotterdam to 



REMAINS. 257 

Cologne) not without interest, with little fatigue, and 
good accommodations. The Custom-house business at 
Cologne is to the full as provoking as that at Rotterdam, 
so that I could not get every thing over, but left it in the 
hands of Mr. Bocker. Cologne interested the boys ex- 
ceedingly, and they are half awed into Catholicism, by 
the magnificence of its churches, and ceremonial. It is 
a fine, but melancholy old place, and abundantly gloomy, 
the country quite flat, and the Rhine not impressive. A 
four hours' drive and about 1 8s. brought us hither. The 
change is very striking. This is a remarkably clean, 
cheerful, and thriving town, the scenery quite beautiful, 
and the University buildings truly splendid, entirely 
eclipsing those of Edinburgh. 

They form the whole south side of the town, beyond 
which are, first, extensive public walks, next a plain, 
covered with vineyards and orchards, and thirdly, a noble 
range of mountains, shaded by forests, and strewn with 
ruins of castles, rising over the Rhine. That river here 
has a majestic appearance. There are heights on each side, 
to view him from, and the volume of waters is immense ; 
a boat crossing appears a speck, and the men on board, 
like walnuts, as Sancho Panza says. 



258 REMAINS. 

TO HIS SISTER MARJORY. 

Bonn, 25th October, 1830. 
The climate has been delightful since we came here ; 
the same blue sky, and warmth we enjoyed last October 
at Toulouse. To-day it has rained ; the country is exqui- 
sitely beautiful, much varied by hill and dale, forest and 
cultivation. The boys have been delighted, especially 
Jamie, with the abundance of fruit. The College session 
will begin immediately. I see one worthy professor has 
given out Othello in English, as the subject of his eluci- 
dations, and criticisms. We have subscribed to an im- 
mense circulating library, of 3000 French and German 
works. Subscription 9s. per annum. Subscription to ten 
newspapers, 9s. per annum. 



TO HIS FATHER. 



VMh November, 1830. 

called to-day to ■■ and , to come and 

look at a fly, that had got on the handle of the clock, to 
see what a start it would get, when the clock struck ; 
the fly was less giddy than he, however, for it stood quiet. 

Bonn, 25th November, 1830. 
It is verv amusing how folks here are accustomed to 



REMAINS. 259 

change country and patriotism ; within a few years they 
have been under an ecclesiastical prince., France, Murat, 
and Prussia ; and a worthy doctor suggested to me, the 
other day, that Bonn was certainly one of the most de- 
sirable residences, as it was far from improbable that it 
might soon be the capital of a duchy, or even kingdom, 
having been a favourite residence ever since the time of 
the Byzantine Emperors, 



TO H. M. 

Bonn, 28th November, 1830. 
We have now been three weeks in our present abode, 
and a very nice one it is. We see to the north, for we 
are at the outskirts of Bonn, a wide champaign country 
richly cultivated, and bounded but by the horizon, and 
the towers of Cologne, which is 15 miles distant. On 
the west we have gently sloping high grounds covered 
with forests, and one point crowned by an old monastery, 
which is still a place of pilgrimage to the peasants of the 
neighbourhood, and a frequent point whither our walks 
extend ; this is called Kreutzberg. On the east is the 
broad majestic Rhine, certainly the finest river I ever 



260 REMAINS. 

saw. To the south we have Bonn close at hand, but, 
on the south of the town, the views and country are far 
more interesting, from the proximity of mountains and 
variety of country ; the Rhine, too, appears far more 
noble when crowned by rocks 1400 feet high, which are 
to be seen near Bonn. 

You give us an account of your method of spending 
time, which seems very well employed, but I don't think 
you have made the best choice of a historian in Millot ; 
he does not lead one to think, and is, I think, somewhat 
of a careless superficial writer ; the introduction to Ro- 
bertson's Charles V. is worth all Millot's history of the 
middle ages, and, if read with care, and, above all, with 
thought, will give the mind a correct and indelible idea 
of the progress of the. human mind, in institutions and 
governments, up to that age. I have seen Sir T. Dick 
Lauder's book, and think it interesting. He is an able 
and amiable man ; he is the author of two ingenious and 
stirring novels, although they are not improving, the 
Wolfe of Badenoch and Lochandhu. It is a difficult 
thing to write a good novel, especially an historical one ; 
the manners of the day are palpable and come-at-able, 
but to transplant one some centuries back requires good 
sense and sreat information. 



REMAINS. 261 



TO HIS SISTER MARJORY. 



Bonn, I4t7i December, 1830. 
We get Galignani's Messenger, some days old, at 4s. 
6d. per month, and have been very sorry to see that people 
have been so sadly blinded as to burn in the English 
counties ; I hope poor Scotland will escape the villains. 
Charles X. would not have been an over respectable 
client for me in Edinburgh. I think James is the most 
interested in political events, and is wild for war; I 
hope, if it happen, he may see some of its miseries here, 
to teach him that it reads more pleasantly than it acts. 
Germany is altogether in a ticklish state; I suspect, 
however, the Austrian soldiery, and, perhaps, the Prus- 
sians also, are royalists to a man. The Rhenish provinces 
are understood to be discontented, but nothing is to be 
seen and heard but blind obedience to the authorities, 
and, if a change take place, it will be made by some 
foreign power, not by the exertions of the people. I see 
the Prussian Polish provinces give their rulers some 
uneasiness, and a most strict police has been established, 
which forbids any one to go out after nine at night on 



2G2 REMAINS. 

the streets without a lantern and a written passport, and 
also forbids more than three people to stand together. 
We know nothing whatever of the causes of the Polish 
Revolution, or what the nation would be at. 



TO HIS GRANDMOTHER. 

Bonn, 26th December, 1830. 
* Letters are a great treat to us, for we have 
no acquaintances but one we should have been most 
happy not to have occasion to know, — the doctor. My 
dear Jane, I fear, becomes gradually weaker, and I have 
now but very slight hopes of her recovery; she is, I 
think, quite as much emaciated as my mother was, but 
her youth maintains a much harder struggle with the 
disease, and she has, therefore, much more suffering. 
Her bones, having scarcely any covering, give her great 
pain, and her cough is terribly exhausting. With all 
her suffering, however, she takes as much interest and 
pleasure in the happiness of those around her as ever, 
and shows this in a hundred ways. She has given all 
the boys presents for Christmas, and had the tree erected 
in her own room last night ; it stood on a table, was 



REMAINS, 263 

hung with figs, almonds, and raisins, and around it was 
a plate for each member of the family, with the presents 
for the season upon it. When all was ready, the boys 
were ushered in ; they were allowed to make no noise, 
and, therefore, their surprise and pleasure were only to be 
seen in their faces. After they had received their presents 
they had supper, consisting of the fruits of the tree, and 
other good things, and then retired. 



We have now very cold wintry weather, the thermo- 
meter fell last night to 6^° ; this is almost always the 
case at Christmas, but we have a great advantage over 
the South of France in point of comfort, as we have no 
difficulty, from our stoves, in keeping up a proper temper- 
ature within doors. This is of great importance for our 
dear invalid, and she, at least, has all the comforts pos- 
sible in her situation, and far more happiness and con- 
tentment than one could imagine. She is prepared to 
die, and talks much, when she is able for it, of the hap- 
piness of a last meeting, she also talks often of my mother, 
of whom she has a very warm admiration, and accounts 
her as one of her friends gone before. 



How fast they fleet "by, these same years ! I don't 



264 REMAINS. 

think my past life now looks nearly so long as it did 
when I was ten years old, and the future part of it will 
soon he over too. 



TO H. M. 

Bonn, 23d January, 1831. 

The spirits of the just have perfect happiness, but, 
doubtless, a part of their happiness may be joy in the 
good works of those they love. How rich am I to be 
in friends in heaven, my mother, my brother, and, soon, 
my wife ; with these in my view, embalmed in my heart, 
can I turn to evil ? 

When we are young, we have generally but few whom 
we loved who are gone before, but, happily, the earth 
becomes poorer and more desolate, and our dying friends 
steal, as it were, our thoughts with them to heaven. 
There mav we all meet ! 



TO THE SAME. 



Bonn, 12th February, 1831. 
If you have not already heard from Moray House, you 
will still anticipate the event which has taken place ; — 



REMAINS. 265 

God has seen fit to remove my dear wife to a better 
world ; she has been dead four days. She fell asleep 
without pain or struggle, in peace with all mankind ; her 
mother and I, the boys, and Josephine, round her bed, 
as she desired, and she was occupied until within five 
minutes before her death, in calling on her Saviour, smiling 
on us all, and bidding us take comfort, and a last fare- 
well. Just before she died, she drew herself somewhat 
together, as if feeling the last attack, smiled most divinely, 
and looked steadfastly before her, with eyes most strangely 
bright and vivid ; I believe it was her first look on 
Eternity. 

We mourn, but not as having no hope ; we speak of 
her, and still look upon her cold still remains, which are 
very unlike herself, in consequence of her extreme ema- 
ciation. I have been to the burying ground to choose 
a spot to lay them, and hope to make many visits thither. 
I am now very calm. It was the will of God. My 
mother, as she now is, is also composed and cheerful, 
and dear Josephine, who was the most violently affected 
of all at first, has regained her composure. 

She prayed for almost all her friends by name, not an 
hour before she died. It was, indeed, the death-bed of 
a Christian. 



2GG REMAINS, 



CONCLUSION OF THE JOURNAL. 

Sept. 17- — Sailed from Leith to Rotterdam, and ar- 
rived on 27th. 

October 8th. — Arrived at Bonn. Got into our own 
house, 7th November, 1830. 

Bonn on the Rhine, Sunday, 20th February, 1831. — 
I am again about to begin to my employments after a 
long and sad interval, and with but half my heart. I 
live, however, and must do my duty to my dear mother, 
my brothers, and myself. The boys will be with me 
until February next year, or, perhaps, longer, and I must 
see to make them employ their time usefully ; for myself, 
I must be more regular, and try to rouse myself from 
the prostration of mind I now feel ; my accounts ought 
to be put in order, my household matters more attended 
to, and my time better distributed. I mean 
To rise between 5 and 6 ; 
From 6 to 7 '30. Read Latin or Greek, preparing 
for the boys. 
7'30 8'30. Do. with them. 
8-30 9. Prayers. 

9 10. Breakfast. 







REMAINS. 261 


From 10 to 


11. 


Mathematics with John. 


11 


12. 


German with the boys. 


12 


1. 




1 


2. 




2 


3. 


Dinner. 


3 


4. 


Duncan's lessons. 


4 


5. 


Reading to mother and Jose 
phine. 


5 


6. 




6 


7. 




7 


8. 


History. 


8 


9. 




9 


9-45. 




9-45 


10. 


Prayers. 



We are to read Xenophon's Anabasis, Virgil's Georgics. 
I shall employ myself in translating Goethe's travels in 
Italy, and Oehlenschlager's Correggio ; I ought to do about 
thirty pages of the former per week. Our history is 
Robertson's Charles V. 

Sunday, 27th February. — I have spent a tolerably 
busy week, much on the foregoing plan, and with some 
interest. Goethe has gone on slowly. I have not suc- 
ceeded in rising in the morning. 

Sunday, 6th March. — Just 28 years since the birth of 
my dear brother George. Have had a pretty busy week. 
The boys go on well. Excepting their lessons, I have 



2G8 REMAINS. 

done little ; I have read Voltaire's Alzire, which pleased 
me much; I love the mercy and love of man which 
speaks in the character of Alvarez, and it is a satisfaction 
to think his prototype, Las Casas, was in no wise his 
inferior. 

Tuesday, June 12, 1831. — I have not been much 
occupied since I last wrote, but have been able to go 
steadily on with the boys upon the whole. 

Wednesday, June 2 2d. — I had last week a return of 
pain in my chest and night perspirations ; these are no 
good symptoms, and I have, therefore, seen Dr. Kilian, 
and got leeched and dosed. I hope I shall soon feel 
stronger, but these attacks are disheartening, as they 
interfere sadly with my employments. 

John and I matriculated last month at the university, 
fees, 6 thalers (18s.) each. This is necessary before 
attending any class and was attended with a great deal 
of trouble. We attend Professor Noeggerath on miner- 
alogy, and Professor A. W. von Schlegel on Roman 
history. The former's fees are two Fredericks d'or, or 
about £l, 14s.; the latter is a public class, and, conse- 
quently, feeless. The students here seem to be very 
well behaved in the class-rooms, notwithstanding a little 
bearish demeanour, which is meant to pass for gentle- 
manly ease out of doors, and is chiefly displayed in loud 
whistling or singing in the streets. 



REMAINS. 269 

Sunday, July 3d. — My health gets worse instead of 
hetter ; I have had a severe attack of inflammation of 
the lungs, and spit a little blood; Kilian bled me copiously, 
and has since dosed me mightily. In the meantime, I 
must lay myself on the shelf, and have got a tutor for 
the boys. 



TO A. M. 

Bonn, Uth April, 1831. 
It is a true remark that in every family there is more 
story than in many Romances. Young as we all are., 
what a variety in the situations of Charles, you, and 
myself. He, moving on in calm domestic peace, and the 
future gaining in charms while the past becomes richer 
in pleasing remembrances ; you, with every thing before 
you that life is worth living for, and I with a rich gleam 
of happiness behind that still more darkens the void 
before me. Shenstone's epitaph* is constantly recurring 
to me, but I see a beauty the more in it. " The sick 
gladnesses the world can give " are now as nothing com- 
pared with the excellence and virtue of her character; 
it is that that survives the tomb and lightens the next 

* Heu ! quantum minus est cum reliquis versari, quam tui me- 

minisse This Epitaph is generally attributed to Shcnstone, though 

it is believed to be by Bishop Lowth. 



270 REMAINS. 

world, and, could I but forget secondary causes, and look 
more to the will of God, I should almost be able to await 
in contentment the time of meeting to part no more. 

C. tells me he is to be in London ; it would give us 
extreme pleasure to see him here, indeed, any remem- 
brance of you all by visit or letter would do me good, 
for I am somewhat subject, now and then, to a kind of 
sickness of life, which I fight with to my best. 



TO THE SAME. 



Bonn, 5th Mag, 1831. 

I wish you a set of Clients like the Normans, of whom 
Regnard says, " il n"y a guere de Normand qui n'ai vaill- 
ant sur pied plus de vingt proces, sans les esperances de 
ceux qu'il a deja perdus." 

Mrs. Thompson, although enjoying very fair spirits on 
the whole, is much broken, and is unwilling to leave this 
place, where she walks in poor Jane's last walks, and 
has the satisfaction of visiting her grave ; and I myself 
feel I am more comfortable here than I should be else- 
where : in short, we must remain together, and I shall 
perform the duties of a son to her till her own can take 
them up, and it may be that we do not part again. 

We live the most regular and not inactive life here — 



REMAINS. 2?l 

breakfast precisely at eight, then John and I go to hear 
a lecture on mineralogy, and I get all my share of the 
boys' work over before two, when we dine. John and 
I have another lecture in the evening, from A. W. 
Schlegel, a favourite of yours, and of every Englishman 
who admires Shakspeare. He is, I think, an excellent 
lecturer, speaking, as most of the Germans do, instead of 
reading, however, and this gives much greater zest and 
spirit. I am astonished with the sceptical nature of his 
Roman history, not in religious matters, but he denies all 
the kings as such, and has a theory of his own, that the 
Romans were originally a colony of Etruscans, and that 
before the beginning of the commonwealth, there is little 
to be depended on. This is by no means conjectural, 
for he brings proofs of falsity in many cases. You know, 
I suppose, that Schlegel has translated Shakspeare, line 
for line. The translation is an admirable one. Schlegel 
is a great man, but not too great to have been a good 
deal spoiled with vanity, the natural consequence of the 
excessive lard of admiration he lies under. I have only 
seen him once, so can say little from personal observa- 
tion, but I understand he never forgives a person who 
beats him at chess, or finds a fault in his English pronun- 
ciation, &c. I suppose Sir Walter Scott is the only 
great man, of the present day, who is superior to flattery 
and detraction. By the way, I am very sorry to hear he 



272 REMAINS. 

is so poorly, wc have heard thrice of his being irre- 
coverable. 

* * -55- * * 

I have been studying Cicero's 1 Tusc. Disp. lately, a 
noble performance for a Pagan, which has deeply inte- 
rested me. It is wonderful how many fine things these 
old fellows have said and felt before us. 



TO Mrs. B. 



Bonn, 29th May, 1831. 
You will, I dare say, excuse my tardiness in answer- 
ing your kind letter of the 31st of March last, which 
gave me much pleasure ; and you will understand that, 
for a long time, I have taken but little interest in any 
thing around me. This selfish feeling, I hope, gives 
way, and among the first things that wakened me from 
it, were your letter and those of other friends, which 
showed me their unvarying kindness and sympathy. 
Withered as our hopes and feelings may become, we can- 
not easily be deadened to these, and there are also, as 
you observe, far higher consolations. How often do I 
think of that sweet hymn, 

" Not lost, but gone before !" 



REMAINS, 273 

These are the words my dear wife wrote in a little Testa- 
men t, her last gift to me. 

* * * * * 

I have heen much pleased with a week's visit of my 
brother Charles, who leaves us to-day for Scotland. 



TO HIS SISTER M. 



Bonn, Sunday, 19th June 1831. 
Yesterday, being Saturday, we had our excursion. Mrs. 
Thompson and Josephine were to have accompanied us, 
but the former had been rather unwell during the night, 
so we four brothers went. We crossed the river by the 
flying bridge here, and walked up to the seven moun- 
tains, on entering which we get into the recesses of a 
great forest, and this kind of walking is delightful. The 
heat was very great — in the forest it was, however, 
much cooler. We came upon the ruins of a fine old 
abbey, of which only the east end remains, but that is 
fine. The grounds around are laid out with taste, and 
belong to a Count von der Lippe. In a retired part of 
them we found a beautiful and simple monument, erected 
to the memory of General Hobe. I shall tell you how 
he came to be buried there. He and his wife were verv 



274 REMAINS. 

intimate with the Count, and while on a visit to him, they 
came to look at this old valley of Heisterhach. The 
seclusion and beauty of the place pleased her so much, 
that she said she should wish to be buried there, and 
this was done. It was natural that the husband, on his 
death-bed, should express the same wish, and on his 
death, after a separation for five years, they were re- 
united in the tomb. It was a strange wish, was it not, 
to lie in the recesses of a forest ? 

I am afraid that the condition of the peasantry here, 
notwithstanding heavier taxes, an absolute government, 
and universal conscription, is much better than in most 
parts of Britain, and I would say this is owing to a 
better moral feeling, and a reverence for old habits and 
authorities, to which a universal and useful education 
contributes, and which spirituous liquors and debauchery 
do not destroy. 



TO HIS BROTHER CHARLES. 

Bonn, Saturday, 9th July 1831. 
My dear Charles, — We wrote to my father last 
week a long budget, which did not give a favourable 



REMAINS. 275 

view of my health, and I am sorry to say I can't give a 
better bulletin this week. I have been again bled ; and, 
although I hope fever has almost left me, I cannot help 
feeling much reduced. The weather is very fine, but 
terribly hot — the thermometer scarcely ever under eighty, 
excepting during the night. Kilian has ordered me to 
Ems, not to bathe but to drink, and I go thither on Mon- 
day, taking Duncan with me. Mrs. Thompson and Jose- 
phine will also go up with us, 

* * * -x- * 

We shall be absent a month, I believe ; and if I re- 
turn as much benefited as Kilian prognosticates, I shall 
do very well. 



TO HIS BROTHER JOHN, AT BONN. 

Bad Ems, 14th July 1831. 
My dear Johnnie, — We arrived here yesterday about 
twelve o'clock, and had very considerable difficulty in 
getting rooms, for the place is remarkably full. We are 
now pretty comfortably established in a small house, be- 
longing to Heydenhaus of the Steinernes Haus, very near 
the Nassau end of Ems, and therefore very quiet and 



276 REMAINS. 

cool. We have two pairs of stairs to climb, which are 
more troublesome for width (being very narrow) than 
length, like the drunkard's road. When up, we have 
three rooms, in one of which Mrs. Thompson and Jose- 
phine reside, and Duncan in another. I have four win- 
dows in my room, with persiennes, and yet I don't think 
it is above seventeen feet long and ten broad. In one 
end is my bed, with a screen before it, and in the other 
we dine and breakfast. We look out on one side on the 
street and the Lahn, and our gable, with five windows, 
looks up the valley. There is a very small but well kept 
garden, and the place is very pleasing indeed. 

•* * -x- * -x- 

I have been staying in all day for the doctor, who has 
not arrived, however. His name is Diel, not Dietz, as 
Kilian wrote it ; so I suspect they know very little of 
each other. 



TO HIS FATHER. 



Ems, 16th July, 1831. 
My health has fallen off considerably, during the last 
month. The copious bleedings, which were quite neces- 



REMAINS. 



sary, have left me weak, and as yet, I do not think I 
have picked up. Kilian expects every thing from Ems. 



The country here is beautiful, I think you would find 
many situations equal to Melville, for there is wonderful 
richness of wood. The valley much resembles Dunkeld, 
and perhaps is a compound of that and the Wye, between 
Monmouth and Chepstow. The average heights I should 
think 500 feet above the river, of the rocks, and wooded 
hills. This is a terribly ^gay and expensive place, we 
are luckily in a garden house, belonging to a hotel, and 
have no annoyance from late hours or hotel visits. Our 
meals are brought to us from the Inn. Our lodgings cost 
us 35/ per week. There are a prodigious number of 
sickly looking women, and also abundance of fashionable 
flutterers, of both sexes. In the Government Hotel, 
where the chief baths and springs are, there are 222 
rooms to let, we found all occupied, excepting those on 
the fourth storey, which, for invalids, are out of the 
question. About 200 people dine in the public room 
there, daily, and are dinned with an orchestra, the whole 
time. The whole ground floor of this immense hotel, of 
which the keeper is the duke, is a bazaar, excepting what 
is occupied by baths, and one finds all kinds of wares, 
aptly termed by the Germans, Galanterie Waarcn, which 



273 REMAINS. 

is as much as to say, they are of no use whatever. The 
season is short, and one must expect great prices, hut our 
living is cheaper. Of great folks, there are numhers here, 
French, Germans, and Russians. The English season, 
has hardly begun yet, for their summer begins, even 
abroad, with the fall of the leaf. 



I occupy myself at home, in reading Cicero, translating 
a Greek tragedy, and studying Shakspeare ; I speak very 
little, as my voice has fallen off, almost as much as my 
temper. In fact, I don't think I have improved, and 
after my bodily strength is a little restored, I shall have 
hard work with my other failings. I am often amused 
with my impatience and heat in very indifferent matters. 



TO HIS FATHER. 



Bad Ems, July 29, 1831. 

The medical men talk of keeping me here longer than 

I counted on, but I don't know whether to accede ; if I 

lose ground, or gain a great deal, I shall leave the place. 

One is apt to fancy quackery at a place of this kind; — I 



REMAINS. 279 

arrived here on the regimen of tea for breakfast, no 
animal food, no wine, but vegetables and fruit unlimited. 
— Kilian's intimate friend has banished tea, allows animal 
food, and prohibits entirely fruit and wine; in fact, I 
have now to trust to the hot springs for my beverage ; 
and, I assure you, German medical language has the same 
happy obscurity and adaptation of words that mean either 
two things or nothing, that characterises our own. Indeed, 
the German is the more roguish of the two, for, although 
they have not so much recourse to Greek words, and 
call things rather more by intelligible names, some of their 
derivatives are monstrous, and have a far more imposing 
sound than ours ; for instance, I send you a sentence from 
a pamphlet on mineral waters, which you may try your 
hands on : — " Jede Brunnenkur greift den Korper an und 
bringt im Organismus einen Theils auch dreisten, Theils 
geschwachten Zustand hervor erhohte Reizbarkeit mit 
verminderter Kraft, vermehrte Bewegungen des Gef aszsys- 
tems, die bis ans Fieberkrafte steigen konnen, Congestionen 
des Bluts, ungewblmliche Vermehrungen und Hemmun- 
gen der Absonderungen, neue Verhaltnisse zu sich und 
der Aussenwelt," — I dare say you have enough of it. 
My doctor is a learned Ober Medicinal Rath j there is 
enough in the title alone to cure half his patients. M.D. 
is nothing to it. * * It is strange how little 

this country is peopled, compared with such a country in 



280 REMAINS. 

Britain. We are here about 220 feet above the level of 
the sea, and this river is navigable for barges 50 or 60 
miles, but there is not a town on it or near it of 5000 
inhabitants, and villages are not numerous. The country- 
is rich enough to grow any thing north of rice. The heat 
ranges at present from 80 to 87°, a good broil, * * 

This part of Germany is Protestant ; the whole protes- 
tant sects, about twelve years ago, united into one, and, 
although with Catholic forms it is impossible that creed 
should join them, I believe the upper classes of both 
religions think alike. There is much in the German 
peasantry that is delightful ; industrious, quiet, and orderly 
in their conduct, and in their relaxations almost refined, 
for these consist in contemplating fair Nature's face, 
and changes of the seasons, with a pipe to assist 
meditation. If there be less strictness in religion here 
than in Scotland, there is, certainly, much more charity 
and love, and there are no scenes of drunkenness and 
brutality. You must really learn to know the Germans 
a little before you retire, and, if you could get the folks 
about you to play nine-pins, drink coffee, and smoke a 
pipe, with a newspaper, instead of Scotch drink and broken 
heads, I should say you had introduced a Reform Bill 
superior to Lord John Russell's. 



REMAINS. 281 



TO HIS SISTER HELEN. 



Ems, %id Aujust, 1831. 
The doctors assure me there is no real danger, i. e. no 
seated danger, and I believe they say what they think. 
My own opinion varies much, but causes me no uneasi- 
ness at all ; as far as I know myself, I have very small 
objections to die, and very little interest in the thoughts 
of living. You have now new ties, all of you, and there 
is, or would be, less to regret on that ground. I more 
regret the uselessness of my past and present life, but 
that too is unavailing. 



TO JOHN. 

Bad Ems, 6tk A ugust. 
I am certainly worse since you left us. I have got 
considerable pain at the heart, and cannot sleep on the 
left side now at all. 



ALEXANDER COWAN, JOANNI FRATRI, S. 

Die Saturni litems ad te scripsi, in quibus dixi ut lxxx. 
denarios Borussicos vulgo " Thaler," ad mo mittcres. 



282 REMAINS. 

Spero id factum. De Uteris ad sororem videbis me haud 
valere, statim autem ad Bonnum redire. Hie aer valde 
calidum et quies nulla. 

Valeas. 

Die Luncs, Angusti octavo, 
A.S.H. M.DCCC.XXXL 

Iiora respertina. 



TO HIS BROTHER CHARLES. 

Bonn, 24th August, 1831. 
I suspect my going to Ems to cure the remains of a 
pleurisy was a most unwise thing, for the place kept me 
in a constant state of perspiration and inflammation, 
Medical folks tell us not to expect improvement imme- 
diately, so that I was deaf to all bad symptoms during 
the first three weeks, but, when the pain took such a 
hold of my chest and heart, I began to doubt. My 
doctor there constantly affirmed that the waters were 
doing good. Whenever I left Ems my fever diminished 
much, and I have been comparatively cool ever since ; 
even the night perspirations almost disappeared, and pain 
in the chest is so completely discarded that I can sleep 
again on my left side. This has surprised Kilian, too, 
very much. But, notwithstanding these good symptoms, 



REMAINS. 283 

I have lost strength so very much that I fear my return 
is too late ; I am less able to contend with my cough, 
which lacerates my throat, and very frequently ends by 
entirely clearing my stomach. This exhausts me much, 
and does not contribute to the well being of my said 
stomach. I am also now able for very little exercise, and 
my returning or progressive weakness is again increasing 
my night perspirations. My letters must be very much 
about myself, but I can't make them very long. I am 
in a very tranquil frame of mind, generally languid, and 
seldom feverish ; I cannot read, speak, or write much, 
and lie chiefly on the sofa. I can still walk round the 
garden, but the weather is unfavourable just now. Grapes 
are ripe — a fine thing for me; in fact, I have every 
comfort my case can afford. 



TO MRS. COWAN. 



Bonn, September 1831. 

****** 
I have no doubt I am dying, but I am as cheerful and 
happy as ever, much more so than for some months after 
the death of my dear Jane, whom I trust soon to rejoin. 



284 REMAINS. 

I have all imaginable care and attention from Mrs. 
Thompson and Josephine, and every reason for gratitude. 
I hope I shall meet death with the fortitude and faith of 
my dear wife. 



The last chapter of this life, so far as it has pro- 
ceeded, has been traced so minutely by the hand of 
its subject, as to render any connecting links un- 
necessary, especially to those friends and relatives 
for whose particular if not exclusive use these pages 
are intended. The reader must have been suffi- 
ciently prepared for the sure anticipation expressed 
in the last letter. His family had for some time 
been unwillingly compelled to admit the probability, 
if not certainty, of the loss of this cherished mem- 
ber, and, in the beginning of September, 1831, Mr. 
Cowan proceeded to Bonn w r ith his daughters Helen 
and Marjory. The following extracts from letters 
written during the visit afford an idea of the comfort 
and gratification derived by both parties from the 
meeting, and exhibit an interesting picture of the 
preparation for his great change, which, under the 
hand of God, affliction and disease had been work- 
ing in the patient's mind. 



REMAINS. 285 

16th September 1831. 

My father went up stairs first, to prepare Sandie for 
seeing us, and we went afterwards. We found him 
sitting upon a sofa, his face much flushed with the hectic 
fever, and his features much sunk, hut his mind is so 
delightfully calm, that he bore our meeting much better 
than we expected, much better than we did. 

He was very cheerful and happy, indeed is always so. 
This is a delightful and airy house ; Sandie has two 
rooms entirely for himself, and every thing about him is 
comfortable and elegant. Mrs. T. and Josephine do 
every thing for him. 

% -X- -X- * -X- 

Last night we all took tea in his parlour, and he looked 
peaceful and happy. * * * Marjory and I sat alter- 
nately for a while on a little stool by his sofa, so that we 
could hear his lowest whisper. (Poor fellow, his voice 
is almost entirely gone.) * * 

He told me that for a long time he could not speak of 
his dear wife with composure, but now that was over, 
and that he had great delight in talking of her to those 
who had known and loved her. He has her work-table 
by his sofa all day, with a few books lying on it, all of a 
serious kind. We went to see him last night after he 



28G REMAINS. 

was in bed, lie was then lying quiet and free from cough, 
and said he was glad to have these few moments to read 
a little out of her Testament. He had her miniature, the 
locket with her hair, and her Testament, on a small table 
beside him, and the beautiful print of St. John, on which 
her eyes were fixed when she died, is also opposite his 
bed. This morning we breakfasted in his parlour, and 
he being in bed, the door of his room was left open, that 
he might see us, and hear our conversation, which he 
enjoyed. Papa has since told me that he has had a long 
and interesting conversation with him, and is delighted 
at the peace and comfort he enjoys. He has a book-case 
close by his bed ; and he told me that in the summer 
mornings he used to awake early and read, but now it is 
not light so soon, and that is well, as he could not now 
make use of the time in the same manner. 



HE MA INS. 287 

Bonn, ISth September. 
Sandie continues very much the same, perfectly happy 
and tranquil ; I never witnessed any thing more beautiful 
and touching than his present state of mind is ; no one 
could he more ripe for the enjoyment of Heaven. He 
said the other day, that he had much reason for thank- 
fulness, that he was here surrounded by every comfort 
that affection or money could procure — that had he been 
a peasant, a bed in the corner of the common room would 
have been all that could have been spared to him — and 
had he been without friends and poor, he must have died 
in an hospital. He also speaks much of Jane, and says 
that it is of her, Mamma, George, and Susan, that he thinks 
with most pleasure of meeting in Heaven. When the 
Doctor told him he was irrecoverable, he said, " well, since 
it is so, I will not be bled or blistered, or have any medi- 
cines excepting those you think absolutely necessary to 
make me pass the remainder of my life easily ; you are 
to take no new measures ; try no experiments upon me." 
The Doctor was quite astonished at this calmness, and said 
that though he could never recover, he might still live 
many years. But that is impossible : every day something 
is taken from his strength. In the beginning of this 
month even, he dined down stairs, and was accustomed 
to go into the garden, and through the house. Now, he 



288 HEMAINS. 

never rises till mid-day, and only comes into the next 
room, lies on the sofa, and sits up occasionally. He is 
quite unable to write letters, or to walk alone. He says 
himself, Jane lived three months after she was unable to 
come down stairs, if I sink as rapidly, I will not last out 
this year. He expresses great pleasure in our society, 
and I am indeed very glad that we have been permitted 
to see him once more. 



TO A. M. 



Bonn, 21st September 1831. 
I have much more in mind to say to you than my hand 
is able for, but you must know that I have nothing but 
cheerfulness and love in that mind. Their visit has been 
a very great satisfaction, and I am grateful that it had 
rather a favourable influence on my health, as I have 
been able to enjoy their company more than I counted 
on. My life, my dear A., has been a strange one, and 
my mind during the last two years has undergone much 
severer discipline from sufferings than any one is aware 
of ; but my illness has had a blessed effect on me, and I 
have been enabled to taste the delightful calmness aris- 
ing from forgiveness and love of all men. 



REMAINS. 289 

A universal spirit of love seems to be around me, which 
includes all who are gone before, and I trust God has 
truly caused his face to shine upon me. I bless him for 
his many mercies. I have all the care that the fondest 
attention can bestow, and all the comforts which are 
denied to so many of the suffering poor in work-houses 
and wretchedness. What a time likewise to die, when 
she is but gone before, and my thoughts turn with desire 
to joining her again before the Eternal Love. 



TO HIS FATHER, 

(During a short absence from Bonn.) 

Bonn, 2AtJt September. 
-* * * * * * 

You see I must be well from writing such a long stave, 
I do much enjoy any ease and comfort, and have, thank 
God, much of it. 

Enjoy yourselves as much as possible, and look on the 
happy sunny side of things as I do. Every sunset just 
now is like the beams of God's love over the world, and 
I love to think of the time when I shall mix with that 
calm deep heaven, and the spirit of love. God bless you 
all. — My dear father's affectionate son, 

Sandie. 



290 REMAINS. 

The following was written on returning to Bonn. 

8th October. 
We found Sandie much the same as when we left 
him ; he is a little thinner, but not weaker. He no w 
sits up till half-past ten ; and last evening was a time of 
great enjoyment to us all. His mind is in a state of per- 
fect tranquillity and peace, and rests much on the con- 
templation of that great and everlasting love, which has 
redeemed him from sin and Satan, and made him feel so 
happy and contented in his last illness. He feels the 
most perfect love towards every body, and his charity 
and forbearance are a lesson to us all, which we can 
never forget. He is always cheerful, and says he wonders 
now how he could ever laugh at people's peculiarities, or 
find disgust in their society ; for now he never thinks of 
these things, — he would look to the heart, and would 
love it for its virtues. He has been speaking much of 
human prejudices. It may be that to us the near pro- 
spect we have of losing his society makes us value it more, 
but I never saw any one's habitual thoughts and feelings 
which seemed so much above the world, or already to 
partake more of that heavenly mindedness by which we 
read of our Saviour on earth being distinguished. 



REMAINS. 291 

The following letter to a friend, from whom the 
deceased and his brother had received kindness in 
Germany in the year 1820, will not be read with- 
out emotion. It presents a striking picture of a 
mind undergoing purification, already much separ- 
ated from the world, and anxiously setting its house 
in order. 

TO Mr. PITCAIRN, NEW YORK. 

Bonn, 11th October, 1831. 
My dear Sir, — You have doubtless heard ere now, that 
it pleases God that I should follow my beloved wife to 
the grave ; and you will be happy to learn that I feel 
the utmost happiness in submitting to His wise decrees. 
Since I have been so ill, and have detached myself from 
all those earthly things that do not concern a dying man, 
I have been doubly sensible of the great kindness and 
love I have experienced from so many ; and my heart 
finds its chief pleasure in expanding itself in love towards 
God and man. I love to recollect all instances of kind- 
ness, and I have thought it may give you some satisfac- 
tion, that I yet warmly feel your and Mr. Joseph Brodic's 
kindness to poor George and me at Hamburg and Eppcn- 
dorf. How well I recollect his thin countenance, that 
quite expressed benevolence ! 



292 REMAINS. 

I have exceedingly enjoyed my dear Father and Sisters' 
visit; they leave us in a few days ; but Marjory probably 
remains during the winter. My pain as }^et has been 
very supportable, and my mind is invariably calm and 
tranquil. Large views of the Deity have, I believe, con- 
tributed to produce this effect, and the feeling of peace of 
mind, and that I have not left one injury unforgiven, makes 
me more than contented — absolutely cheerful. Give 
my love to Miss Brodie, and all who remember me ; and 
now farewell. May God be with you and your's through 
life. 

Your affectionate and obliged, 

Alex. Cowan. 



Nimeguen, 22c? October. 
We parted from our dear brother yesterday morning, 
and with wonderful composure. I breakfasted with him, 
and he was quite cheerful, though from pain in his chest 
scarcely able to speak. When we left him, and he said 
his parting " God bless you," his face was a good deal 
flushed, and that, with a slight quiver on his lip, were 
the only signs of any unusual emotion, and Papa and I 
took care not to betray any in his presence. Indeed 
there was none, for we are so happy to have seen him, 
and his mind so calm and holy, that we ought not to re- 



REMAINS. 293 

gret his early death. All we have now to wish for is a 
continuance of that peace of mind and joy in believing 
which have hitherto made his last illness the happiest part 
of his life ; and he says himself, that while his mind is 
so calm and happy, he does not care about bodily suffer- 
ing. He knows he is too weak to bear much. 

The night before we left Bonn, I played over to him 
several of Weber's overtures, which he always admired, 
and in which I have often been accompanied by his flute 
or violoncello. He enjoys music still very much. 



21th October. 
My dear Father, — I go on very well, suffering not 
much pain, and enjoying myself a good deal, the bless- 
ings of peace of mind and love do not at all leave me. 
My appetite is falling much off. 



Bonn, 29th October 1831. 
My dear Grandmother, — I become very weak, but 
am very happy to write you a few lines. I am fast join- 



294 REMAINS. 

ing my dear wife, mother, and brother, and the great God 
who is perfect love. I am very happy and comfortable, 
but much less able to speak to those around me than for- 
merly. I thank Charles for his much prized letter, and 
may God be with you, Aunt Anne, and all his family. — 
Your affectionate Grandson, 

Alexander Cowan. 

The above, which is written in the feeble and 
constrained hand, which had for some months mark- 
ed his decaying strength, appears to be the last let- 
ter Sandie wrote without assistance. 

On 6th November, his sister Marjory, who re- 
mained with him till his death, writes : — 

" Our dear brother remains very much in the same 
state, getting weaker very gradually. On Monday we 
began to read history in the evening. Sandie likes it 
very much, indeed, and listens with great attention. He 
has told us the story of Valerius during two evenings. 
It is astonishing how strong his memory is. Sandie is 
still able to speak a good deal some times. He said 
lately, that he hoped we should all, like him, be enabled 
to cast our burden of sins at the feet of Jesus, and find 
peace with him." 



295 



3d December. " Sandie does not leave his bed now. 
On Sunday he got up for a little time., and came into the 
next room to dinner, but that was the last day he did so. 
— We have got an excellent likeness taken of my brother 
in chalk, by a Mr. Gotzenberg. A bust is to be taken 
from it. Sandie did not find it very fatiguing having it 
done, and he is very much pleased that it has been done, 
as you wished it so much. — Professor Brandis one day 
brought him a collection of beautiful German hymns, 
some of which I read to him every night, and he likes 
them. A number of them are by Martin Luther. — 
Sandie is always full of hope, love, and joy. He says 
he feels that God's arms are around him unceasingly, and 
that Jesus makes him quite light. He says that he loves 
us all so much, that his heart seems to be boiling over 
when he looks at us. His cough is not so severe as it 
was, and he says it is very merciful, that as his body be- 
comes weaker his cough is less. He sleeps a great deal, 
but moans incessantly." 

The sheet on which the above is written, contains 
a short letter from Sandie to his father, written by 
his sister. 

" My dear Father, — I think I am able to write to you 
a little bit this evening with Marjory's assistance. I sup- 



29G REMAINS. 

pose they give you full accounts of me,, and I have to 
corroborate their statements that my mind is in the same 
happy state. I hope to be able to write some more the 
next opportunity, but I am not able for any more to- 
night." 

The following is the last letter he dictated, and 
is subscribed by himself, but in a hand shaken by 
disease into the character of palsied age. His 
brother John had gone to Rotterdam to receive their 
sister, Lucy- Anne, on her way to Neuwied : — 

Bonn, Stk December 1831. 

My dearest Father, — You will be almost glad to 
hear that when your letter to me arrived to-day, I could 
not hear it read from sleepiness. I am happy in dozing 
a good deal, and although my pain is necessarily increas- 
ed, I find the same love to God and man which enables 
me to support it. Johnnie left us on Tuesday afternoon 
by Diligence for Rotterdam. It gives me a chance of 
seeing them both again, as he was to lose no time ; but 
my weakness is so very much increased, that I have 
strong doubts of surviving this week. 

How much I should have enjoyed your society and in- 
tercourse, had it been God's will, but I am very happy 
in the thoughts of meeting those who are gone before. 



REMAINS. 207 

hoped to have written to my dear Charles once more, but 
I am unable, I fear, for the exertion. May God bless 
him and his dear family here and hereafter. I thank 
Helen for her letter ; and may God keep his arms around 
us all for evermore. 

Your affectionate Son,. 

Alexander Cowan. 

On 1 Otk December — <( Our dear Sandie is still with 
us, though at this time yesterday neither he nor any of 
us expected that he would survive the night. He is un- 
commonly patient, for though he is longing to go home, 
yet he is willing to await God's time. Yesterday morn- 
ing he lost his voice, and he told me that he thought it 
was to be his last day. In the evening, when we were 
all around him, he said it was a great grief to him that 
he was not able to speak. I put my ear close to him, 
and heard all he said — ( I am going to the greatest hap- 
piness. You have all been very good to me, and I love 
you all. Tell Josephine to be very kind to that dear old 
woman — I am sure she will. My darling, Jeanie ! — my 
dear wife ! I shall soon be with her.' He then raised 
his eyes to heaven, and said, c Merciful Jesus ! — Great 
God ! receive me — receive me.' He then put his hand 
on my head, and kissed me, and blessed me and Mrs. 
Thompson. * * * * 



298 REMAINS. 

Last night, at one time when we thought lie was near 
dying, we saw him moving his fingers. He was making 
a calculation of his age, and told us he was 7885"* days 
old. 

" He told us last night we must he sure to lay him 
quite close to Jane." 

On Sunday, the 11th December, he became worse 
in the morning, and though he afterwards revived a 
little, he scarcely spoke all day. On seeing some 
one in the room, he asked if it were his sister, whose 
arrival was expected, and expressed a hope that he 
would yet see her and John.-f" He could with diffi- 
culty speak at all for some time before he died, but 
occasionally pronounced the name of Jesus, and raised 
his eyes often to heaven, apparently in prayer. He 
looked at his friends with an expression of kindness, 
and was quite sensible till nearly the last, when he 
had some struggle. He was released from suffering 
at twenty minutes before eight o'clock. 

His directions regarding his grave were faithfully 

* Excluding the additional day in leap years, the correct num- 
ber is 9885. He may have been incorrectly heard, but at any rate 
the incident is very remarkable. 

■f They did not arrive till next morning. 



REMAINS. 299 

observed — his body being laid close to that of his 
wife in the churchyard of Bonn. The place is 
marked by a plain monument, bearing the following 
Inscription, which was written by himself before he 
went to Ems. The original in his handwriting 
contained even the year, he having, ever after his 
wife's death, had a presentiment that they would 
die in the same year. A blank was left for the 
month and day of his own death alone. The re- 
ference to Scripture was added afterwards. 

HERE LIE THE MORTAL REMAINS 
OF 

ALEXANDER COWAN, 

OF EDINBURGH, WRTTER TO HIS MAJESTY'S SIGNET, 

WHO WAS BORN AT VALLEYFIELD, NOVEMBER IX., M.DCCC.IV., 

AND OF 

JANE ANNESLEY THOMPSON, 

HIS WIFE, 
WHO WAS BORN AT ORLEANS, MAY I., M.DCCC.IX. 



THEY WERE MARRIED AT KESWICK, IN CUMBERLAND, 

SEPT. I., M.DCCC.XXIX., 

AND DIED AT BONN, OF CONSUMPTION, 

SHE FEB. VIII., AND HE DEC. XI., 

M.DCCC.XXXI. 



II. SAMUEL I. XXIII. 



300 REMAINS. 

The preceding pages contain enough of matter 
to enable those who enjoyed the familiar acquain- 
tance of Alexander Cowan to connect his produc- 
tions, in their substance, and manner, and tone, 
with the author, and, as it is chiefly, if not altoge- 
ther, for his family and intimate friends that this 
volume is designed, there appears to be little occa- 
sion for adding to the portraiture which has been 
exhibited by his own hand. 

To those of his connexions who are too young 
to have known him personally, it may be interest- 
ing to learn that he was of tall stature, with broad 
shoulders, though not robust in his person. His 
countenance was thoughtful, and marked by a serious 
but pleasing expression, the brow and chin being 
prominent, the face thin, and the eyes small but 
intelligent. The engraving which forms the fron- 
tispiece is, upon the whole, a faithful likeness. 

His manner was quiet and unobtrusive, convey- 
ing to strangers an impression of reserve ; but his 
habitual disposition was remarkably happy and 
cheerful. He had a keen relish for the society of 
his family and familiar friends, and in his inter- 
course with them enjoyed a sustained elasticity of 
spirits, breaking out into frequent mirthfulness, not 



REMAINS. 301 

the less real that it was not boisterously expressed, 
but rather betrayed by an apparent consciousness 
of high mental enjoyment. His happiness, indeed, 
was in the domestic circle, and he shone there not 
more by his varied talents and acquirements than 
by his kindly dispositions, and a simplicity of heart 
which could be playful or serious as fitted the occa- 
sion. 

To those who enjoyed his intimacy, perhaps the 
most remarkable feature of his character was indi- 
cated by the never failing calmness and self-posses- 
sion of his deportment. Circumstances which ordi- 
narily give rise to demonstrations of emotion and 
excitement did not appear to have that mastery 
over him, but to be held in subjection to the exami- 
nation and conclusions of his judgment ; and it is 
only necessary to refer to the latter portion of his 
history, as exhibited in the preceding pages, to show 
that this quality did not result from apathetic indif- 
ference, for there the depth of his feeling is suffi- 
ciently attested, — it was the attribute of a clear 
understanding and strong will co-existing with ten- 
derness of heart, but watchful to maintain the bal- 
ance between reason and sensibility. That he en- 
tirely succeeded in this may not be affirmed, — how 



302 REMAINS. 

few attain to that pitch of mental discipline ! — but 
it will be well if the young who read these pages 
observe this point of his character, and learn the 
high duty of guarding themselves against the per- 
plexity and disturbing influence which unlooked for 
and, it may be, afflicting events bring with them, 
and also against the more familiar and hasty excite- 
ment of every day occurrence, and, while they give 
the heart its due, not to allow it to dethrone reason 
and exclude its suggestions. 

The literary productions contained in this volume 
are chiefly distinguished, in their conception and 
style, by that simplicity which characterised their 
author. There is no attempt, by elaborate effort, 
or sounding phraseology, or artificial ornament, to 
give to the conceptions an effect higher than that of 
which their own nature rendered them capable. 
This is the species of composition which will always 
ultimately be the most satisfactory, for the standard 
to which it refers is the highest and best, (speaking 
in a literary sense,) viz. the truth of nature, and 
those writers have been the most successful, who, 
endowed by nature with the highest mental vigour, 
have adhered, with the greatest faithfulness and 
sincerity, to her models and instructions in the man- 



REMAINS. 303 

ner of embodying their conceptions. Although it 
may be thought that our author's admiration* of 
De la Martine was not in accordance with the prin- 
ciple above alluded to, the remark will probably be 
admitted to be applicable to the whole of his own 
prose writings and original poetry, with a trifling 
exception. His admiration of the French poet 
may be attributed to sympathy in his serious turn 
of mind, independently of other causes. 

It need scarcely be remarked, that these produc- 
tions are not amenable to the criticism proper to 
compositions elaborated by the application of an 
author's whole time and energy. A great part of 
their interest consists in their being tributes to liter- 
ature paid during hours saved, or, it might some- 
times be, stolen from professional labours, indicat- 
ing by the very unfavourableness of the opportunities 
for their production, the salient energy of the spring 
from which they flowed. He was latterly, indeed, 
separated from professional labours ; but that was 
only to be united to other important duties ; and 
the preceding pages shew too well what difficulties 
he had to contend with in the state of his wife's 

* 'This exception will not be extended, however, to the beautiful 
lines on the Butterfly, p. 55. 



304 remains! 

health and his own ; and in the agony of grief con- 
sequent on her death. 

But, after all, the principal charm, and most in- 
structive lesson exhibited in these pages, is the pic- 
ture and history of a character tried (first, it may 
be, by prosperity, or the easy attainment of desired 
objects, and afterwards) by affliction, and coming 
out of the furnace purified and refined. 

The correspondence shews the depth of the grief 
to which he abandoned himself after the death of 
his wife. It was a source of much anxiety to those 
around him, and the first thing which seemed to 
arouse him to an effort to struggle against it, was 
his discovery of the serious apprehensions entertained 
by his wife's mother, of the consequences of his resign- 
ing himself so entirely to the indulgence of sorrow. 
How successful this effort, under the Divine bles- 
sing, was, not in banishing the remembrance of his 
loss, but in taking from his grief its character of 
exclusiveness and resistance to consolation, and in 
restoring to their salutary power the love of duty 
and of friends, the later correspondence sufficiently 
exhibits. 

It will be remembered that his father and two 
sisters visited him during the Autumn preceding his 



REMAINS. 305 

death. This visit was a source of great happiness and 
comfort to both parties. San die's complaints were now 
too unequivocal in their symptoms to permit any ex- 
pectation of his ultimate recovery ; but the state of his 
mind was such as to enable him to look forward to 
death, not only without dismay, but with tranquillity 
and desire. The death of his beloved wife had no 
doubt snapped the strongest tie which bound his af- 
fections to life. But he had been enabled to come 
out of the depth and bewilderment of that affliction ; 
and it appears as if the fiery ordeal of grief he had 
undergone had been blessed as the instrument of 
eradicating all selfishness, and expanding the affec- 
tion previously concentrated with intensity on her 
memory, into a spirit of universal love. He told 
his father at Bonn, when stretched on what was to 
prove his death-bed, that he was then happier than 
he had been in any previous part of his life, even 
during any period of his intercourse with the be- 
loved wife whose loss he had so deeply deplored. 

Some friends have remarked in his letters an ab- 
sence of the peculiar grounds of faith and consola- 
tion which Christians enjoy. This, in so far as it 
exists, may, we trust, be attributed, in a great mea- 
sure, to that momentous subject being regarded by 



80 G REMAINS. 

him as too sacred and awful to form matter for 
familiar conversation or correspondence — a feeling 
which the experience of many proves to be but too 
prevalent. It will be observed, however, that in 
the later letters there is evidence that his faith was 
reposed where only it should be, and the deficiency 
alluded to was supplied in frequent and undoubling 
declarations to those who waited upon him during 
his last illness. 

It is instructive to review a character thus exer- 
cised, and apparently made fit, in a large measure, 
before death, for a higher state of being, by purifica- 
tion from passion and earthly objects ; and the con- 
templation may well elevate our thoughts, and fill 
us with admiration of the wisdom of Him whose 
mysterious dealings were here to the mere eye of 
sense, scourging and attenuating the feeble body ; 
but to the eye of faith were accomplishing thereby 
the mortification of sense and sin, and nourishing 
into life and strength the plants of charity and love, 
which germinate on earth to reach maturity in 
heaven. 



THE END. 



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